A War for Three
by caryalaciniosa
Summary: Two years after the Butterfly Incident, the struggle between Griffin & Kryuger and Sangvis Ferri continues unabated. To many, the countless IOP androids employed by Griffin are merely a tool. But even T-dolls have true warriors, worthy of the highest praise. The stories told here are but a few of such individuals.
1. Prologue

The water spun down into the drain, and the blonde girl opened her eyes. She was not quite sure how she had gotten where she was – only vague memories of being led to the showers by someone with long, black hair came to her. Now, though, she was alone, and the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the dark washroom drew away what remaining warmth she had from the shower. The girl stepped away from the shower head and across the floor.

In the adjacent room was a thick white towel and a neatly folded black and white uniform and undergarments. The blonde girl dried herself off with the towel before donning the uniform. The underwear fit perfectly, as did the pressed white shirt and navy blue skirt. Over her shoulders went the jacket, brass fasteners complementing the wide white lapels, over her legs were the matching socks and thigh-high boots, and over her hands was the pair of soft white gloves. Finally, she clipped the provided aiguillette to her right shoulder and fitted the cap around her head. She could not really say why she had found it so natural to dress, or why the clothes were so familiar to her, or even why she had obliged the unspoken request to dress at all. As a matter of fact, she didn't know where the obligation had even come from.

The girl looked down at the table the clothes had been on. Underneath them had been a small canteen and a pill, set upon a piece of paper. The girl set aside the canteen and pill to pick up the paper, reading the neatly printed text upon it.

_Consume with a full cup of water on an empty stomach. Results typically immediate. Seek solitude prior to consumption._

The implication was obvious. The girl set down the note and picked up the canteen, unscrewing the cap before taking the pill in her hand. Without considering the matter any further, she placed the pill in her mouth and put the canteen to her lips, flinging it back and swallowing. The water was frigid, but she drained the flask anyway, taking the pill down easily.

The memories returned all too quickly.

"Reinforcement squads! Be careful!"

It was too late. The blond girl whirled around, and so did her clones, all five of them raising their rifles to aim at the apartment door.

"The fact that you could kill me _once _was very good on your part," said the maid doll, "Coming from such trash dolls as yourselves."

The blonde girl's senses froze at the sight of her. The doll had its skirts lifted as if making a curtsy, and underneath them was the pair of fearsome cannons the blonde girl had heard before from a distance. She squeezed the trigger, but the cannon blasts reached her first. In a second, her lower torso was pulverized and her legs torn away. Excruciating pain filled every inch of her body, and what was left of her fell to the floor, ears ringing.

"It's over, you Griffin trash," said the maid doll. "You've done nothing except get the floor dirty." Through the pain, the blonde girl lifted herself up on her elbows, looking up at the maid doll. Its slate-grey eyes were turned down to the girl, and only thing she could feel from them was cold regard.

"The… the AR team…" coughed the girl, lungs nearly nonfunctional from the damage. "The AR team will definitely escape!"

"It's useless. You're simply wasting time," said the maid doll, and the cannons under its skirt swiveled to face the blonde girl again. "And right now, we have all the time in the world."

The cannons fired, and the girl's head split.


	2. SuperSASS Chapter 1

It was cold, it was loud, and it was gritty.

"NEW WAVE!" shouted M590.

SuperSASS crawled back to the edge of her hole, weapon in hand. Sangvis artillery had scooped out great craters in the battlefield; SASS had taken shelter in one such crater. Sangvis fire zipped overhead as she set her rifle on the edge and peered over. Sangvis units swarmed across the ground like insects, pouring over corpse and debris alike in a mad rush. Skirmisher units loped ahead of the rest, their mounts propelling them across the ground with surprising speed. SASS spied M590 lurking in a depression only twenty meters ahead, ready with weapon in hand. RFB, Ingram, and Grizzly were likely in similar pits, hopefully close.

SASS's radio crackled to life.

"New orders from the Commander," said Grizzly. "We're falling back to point Yelena, effective immediately. Leonid Echelon will reinforce us there, over."

"This wave is almost on us," said M590. "What's to say we won't be coming in shot to shit? We need to hold position and do our best to stave them off."

"No arguing with Commander's orders," said Grizzly. "Get ready to move on my orders. Ingram, ready smoke."

M590 muttered a word of dissent, but said no more. SASS saw Ingram pull herself up to the edge of her crater, dangerously close to the incoming Sangvis wave. The doll pulled several smoke grenades from her belt in preparation for Grizzly's order to move. Sangvis may as well just push through it, thought SASS. She took aim at the Sangvis frontrunner, tracking the enemy doll. One shot would topple it from its mount…

"MOVE!" shouted Grizzly. SASS caught a glimpse of Ingram lobbing her grenades at the Sangvis troops before the ground in her crater exploded in a geyser of dirt as her dummy links burst up out of hiding. The same occurred in M590's, and likely in Grizzly and RFB's. SASS ordered her links to do the same.

After freeing themselves from the dirt, the duplicates joined SASS in a mad dash away from the Sangvis front line. Stray shots whizzed by as the enemy dolls fired wildly, unable to aim in the thick smoke.

"They've broken the smoke line!" reported Ingram. SASS heard the rip of the doll's submachine firing away at the Sangvis who'd exited the smoke.

"Keep going," said Grizzly. SASS tapped into her GPS to see that her leader was alongside RFB in the run to Yelena point. M590 was close to SASS, and Ingram was bringing up the rear, continuing to throw smoke grenades when the opportunity presented itself.

SASS could see the slope to Yelena point just ahead. Grizzly and RFB were scrambling up the side of it, kicking loose dirt and rubble down the side as they went. SASS broke into a flat sprint towards the foot of the hill.

"Snipers!" said Ingram, catching the bulk of Sangvis fire from her position at the rear. SASS heard a sharp crack of a rifle round moments before she felt a pinch in the nape of her neck – a telltale sign that one of her dummies had been hit and destroyed.

M590 had begun scaling the slope, slinging her gun over her back in order to use both hands and feet in the struggle to get up. She had configured her body shield to cover her back as she climbed, and Sangvis fire peppered the metal as she went. SASS envied such a defense at the moment, herself exposed to the hail of bullets shot by the enemy.

The climb up the slope grew steadily more difficult. Once SASS had cleared the large chunks of structural rubble, the rest of the hill was only dirt and pebbles, extremely difficult to find good footing in. The doll resorting to kicking hard so as to make footholds, slowly but surely making her way up. RFB had gotten into a firing position at the top and begun returning fire to the Sangvis units, picking off the leading dolls with pinpoint accuracy.

"ARTILLERY!" shouted Grizzly. The air rumbled with the drumroll of gun batteries firing. M590 doubled her speed, and SASS made to do the same, struggling to find solid ground to grip onto. Ingram threw the last of her grenades and dashed for the hill, jumping up onto the wall of a ruined building and leaping as far as she could up the hill – still falling woefully short of the other two.

SASS looked back just in time to see the foot of the hill explode behind Ingram as the barrage slammed down. Chunks of concrete and desiccated T-doll corpses were thrown up into the air along with a wave of dirt, obscuring her view of the incoming Sangvis units in a barrier of orange flame, black dirt, and grey smoke.

"Move it!" shouted Grizzly. SASS was close enough to hear her voice without the radio. M590, now short a dummy, hauled herself over the sandbags and behind the barricades. SASS could see Grizzly's head at the edge, hand ready to help her up. She put on a burst of speed, mere meters from her goal…

The top of the hill exploded as the second round of Sangvis artillery thundered down from the heavens. SASS ducked just in time to avoid the blast of dirt, sandbags, and T-doll body parts thrown over the edge of the hill, but the shockwave flung her body into the dirt, and only by digging the butt of her rifle in did she avoid sliding back down to the bottom.

"YOU'VE REALLY DONE IT NOW!" screamed Ingram. "DIE, SANGVIS SCUM!"

SASS opened her mouth to protest, but Ingram had already leapt off the side of the hill and back into her own smoke. The doll watched the swirling fog and intermittent muzzle flashes for a moment before she turned back forward to finish the climb.

The top of the hill was a mess. What was once a Griffin strongpoint had been reduced to a crumbling building, exposed rebar imprisoning the broken husk of the once-operational sensor equipment within. Defensive positions had been blown apart, sandbags and spilled ammo boxes littering the ground. Smoke billowed up and disappeared in the night sky, obscuring the field of stars above. SASS glanced over the edge of the hill. No Sangvis had yet emerged from the cloud of smoke below.

"Where's Ingram?" asked Grizzly. SASS turned to see her team leader kneeling next to one of her duplicates, the dummy bleeding profusely from shrapnel wounds.

"She… uh…"

"Alright."

Grizzly lifted the extra magazines and pistol from the dummy link, sticking them into her belt. SASS glanced over at the destroyed building, where she could see a few bodies sprawled across the ground, some crushed by rubble. RFB and M590 were struggling to lift a piece of concrete off of an intact RFB duplicate, grasping for a fallen rifle.

"Wh… what're we doing?" asked SASS.

"Defending the hill."

"It's blown up!"

"We had an order." Grizzly looked at SASS disparagingly. "I know that this is your first time running with us. Probably your first time on a battlefield this big. But we've got to fight."

RFB and M590 shuffled over to the other two.

"RFB, SASS, take firing positions on the edge," ordered Grizzly. "M590 and I will stay behind you and nail any Sangvis who get by."

"Grizzly-chan, this is too much," whined RFB, dragging her feet. "Can't we just call it a night and retreat?"

M590 gave RFB a push in the back. "Sangvis will be on us any minute. Try not to get killed."

SASS looked around. Two of her dummy links had made it up after her – another one had been shot by Sangvis units before reaching the top of the hill. RFB had only one. Five guns would not be able to hold a hill against a horde of Sangvis troops. Grizzly knew that. They would die… at least, everything since their last neural cloud backup. SASS's stomach twisted at the thought.

She took position next to RFB and aimed down at the foot of the hill. Grizzly and M590 stood behind both of them.

"Where's Ingram?" said RFB. SASS bit her lip.

"Here they come!" shouted Grizzly.

The Sangvis units stormed out of the smoke and up the hill. RFB let loose with a hail of fire, and SASS joined the cacophony of rounds. She squeezed the trigger… and squeezed again… and again…

There seemed to be no conceivable end to the Sangvis units. The new ones simply walked over the corpses of the old, stomping them into the ground as they advanced towards the hill. At first, the slope had proven difficult to climb, but the Sangvis dolls, unperturbed by the failure to scale it, kept at it.

"I'm out," said RFB, throwing her empty rifle down at a Sangvis. Her dummy had been nailed by an enemy sniper, coolant running thick from the head wound. SASS pulled the trigger as fast as she could in an effort to stop the flow of Sangvis troops. She could not tell how many times she had to reload – only that she had to. She could not hear Grizzly's shouts, only the crack of her rifle, and the snap of Sangvis return fire zipping past her ears.

SASS gradually realized that she had reached her last magazine. Sangvis units were still coming in droves, and they had nearly reached the top of the hill when Grizzly seized SASS by the uniform and pulled her back, throwing the doll far away from the edge.

"We'll take it from here."

Time almost slowed for SASS. Grizzly drew the second pistol she had taken from her fallen dummy just as the first Sangvis doll crested the hill. M590's barrel exploded in a fiery burst of buckshot.

The fight was quick, though brutal. Grizzly and M590 fought like cornered animals, smashing in skulls and breaking body parts whenever they were close enough to forego firing their weapon. When they did fire, however, it was only when necessary, and with deadly precision, saving as much ammunition as possible. Bullets shattered bone and buck flayed open skin in a forge of orange muzzle flashes and explosions.

"BURN IN HELL!" screamed Grizzly, throwing herself at a bayonet-wielding Sangvis guard unit. The guard raised its shield to block her shots and thrust its bayonet forward–

"Hhhhuuurk-"

She raised her hand and emptied the rest of the pistol's magazine into the Sangvis doll, and the two collapsed to the ground, moments before the next horde of Sangvis swarmed around them. SASS watched, mouth agape, as M590 fired off round after round into the dolls surrounding her, a ring of corpses steadily growing around her.

Unlike Grizzly, M590 died without a word. The barrel of her gun was still smoking when the Sangvis units turned to SASS, starting across the ground. She raised her rifle and tried to fire, but found herself out of ammunition. Not even a heroic death, she thought. Her end would be with her back against the wall, riddled with bullet holes and nothing to show for it.

The Sangvis were almost on top of her when a series of explosions rippled across the hilltop, throwing Sangvis dolls everywhere in a fresh hail of shrapnel and debris. SASS glimpsed a series of crimson- and black-clothed figures swarm around the rubble and descend upon the surviving Sangvis. The air thundered with the crack of rifle fire, fully automatic, bright muzzle flashes illuminating the carnage.

SASS climbed to her feet as the figures advanced towards the edge of the hill. More of them appeared out of the night and joined the advance, steadily pushing the remaining Sangvis towards the slope. SASS started walking towards the disabled dolls left behind them – she had to find Grizzly, see if she was still alive.

Her team leader was buried beneath a copious amount of Sangvis corpses. SASS slowly pushed them off to expose the one that had impaled Grizzly. The fall had driven the bayonet further through her torso, nearly separating it from her legs.

"Koff… SASS…" Grizzly had slowly turned her head to face SASS, jaw tight from pain. "Sorry you had to see that… it gets messy sometimes…"

SASS stared at Grizzly. Her leader was covered in Sangvis synthetic blood and dirt, face blackened from smoke, hair singed from soot, forearm seared a blistering red by the artillery barrage explosion.

"The neural cloud won't be up to date," said Grizzly. "Here…" She reached down to where the bayonet wound was and buried her hand in the hole, grimacing in agony. SASS stared as she extracted a small, pill-shaped object, dripping with coolant. "Combat data recorder," she said, holding it out to SASS. "Give it to me when the battle's over."

SASS took the device and put it in her pocket. "What about RFB and M590?"

"Tough shit. Combat drone footage can suffice for them," said Grizzly, her spiteful laugh quickly turning into a hacking cough. "If you ever see Ingram, tell her she needs to show more self control. She'd've been more useful up here…"

Grizzly looked up at the night sky. "Nice view to die by." She turned to look at SASS. "I know it's bad, but–"

SASS felt several things happen at once. A hot blast from a bullet rushed past her ear, just as Grizzly's eyes widened and she grasped for the pistol she no longer had. SASS turned to see a Sangvis doll stumbling through the mud towards her. SASS had no weapon, nor did Grizzly; the Sangvis had leveled its gun at SASS and was about to fire a second shot when it was taken to the ground, tackled by another figure. SASS glimpsed the shimmer of a knife blade in the figure's raised hand before it slashed down. The Sangvis doll, grasping at its attacker, went limp.

SASS pushed herself back into a sitting position. The figure climbed off of the dead Sangvis and approached her, placing the knife into a sheath.

"Fireteam Grizzly?" it asked, holding out a hand to SASS.

"Yes… ma'am," she said, standing up and getting a good look at the face of her rescuer. It was a doll with long, flowing pale pink hair, the red side cap on her head matching the black-red sailor's uniform, eerily similar in shape to SASS's own. "I… Grizzly…"

"Dead by now," said the other doll. "Are there any other survivors from your echelon?"

"Ah… Ingram might still be down there… Are you Leonid Echelon?"

"No, Leonid was taken out by a Sangvis ambush. We're Hunter Squadron."

The other doll seemed almost distracted as it spoke, eyes almost constantly flicking left and right. SASS blinked in confusion.

"Hunter…?"

The doll, who had been staring behind at the now-distant gunshots, looked back to SASS. "Yes. The commander rerouted us here when Leonid was intercepted and you were assaulted. I guess we didn't get here fast enough, though. You said Ingram's still down there?"

"M-maybe, it's not like she made radio contact…"

"All right. Well, just sit tight. Tokarev!"

SASS twisted to see a white-dressed T-doll saunter over to the other two from where she had been inspecting the hilltop battlefield. She smiled warmly at SASS.

"Make sure she isn't shot by any Sangvis we missed," said the pink-haired doll. "I'm going to find StG44 and the others and see how it's going."

The pink-haired doll stepped over a Sangvis corpse and knelt down, picking up an immense rifle nearly as tall as she before starting off at a brisk run down the hill. SASS watched her bound away towards the battleline.

"Sorry if she's a little intense," said Tokarev. Her voice was soft and unassuming, a far cry from the clipped tone of the other doll.

"Who…" managed SASS, still shaken from the battle.

"NTW-20. She's the team leader." Tokarev looked around the hilltop. "Lose your gun?"

"Uh… it's by the body…"

Grizzly gone. M590 around somewhere, buried under Sangvis corpses. RFB shot dead. Ingram gone berserk. SASS wondered what the chances were of her surviving. Slim to none? She had been about to die when Hunter Squadron arrived, and about to die again when NTW-20 intervened. She had been spared explosions and bullets, and had no feats to show for it. She, the FNG, as Ingram put it, had been the only one to survive the battle.

When she had first been reassigned to Fireteam Grizzly from Team Thompson, SASS had been reassured that there would be little difference between the difficulty of the missions they were sent on. But an unexpected Sangvis offensive in the area had led to her unexpected deployment on an unexpected mission on an unexpected battlefield. It was like nothing she had ever experienced.

"Are you alright?" asked Tokarev.

"Y-yeah…"

"Shell shock, then. Take deep breaths. You should sit down somewhere…"

Tokarev looked about for a clear space to sit down, but SASS had already drifted back off into thought. The squad members would be rebuilt quickly, though they would lack any memory of the battle, excepting Grizzly, once SASS gave her the data recorder. RFB, M590, and Ingram would be none the wiser to the fates they had met on the battlefield, at least until someone else told them about it.

Voices heralded the return of the other dolls. They seemed to take the hill much easier than SASS and the others had – perhaps it was less of a task when one was not being pursued by a horde of Sangvis troops.

"That's this wave finished," said NTW-20. "The Commander says there's a carrier on route to get us back on track."

"Any idea how the rest of the battle's going?" asked one of the other dolls, this one in clothed in crimson.

"No, and we won't find out for a while…"

"Who's this?" asked another, looking straight at SASS.

"One of Grizzly's."

"Huh… shame she's dead, I would've killed to meet her."

"I know, right? Fire-walker, they say… damn. Well, maybe I'll catch her at the bar later."

The other dolls in the squadron devolved into banter as NTW-20 returned to SASS and Tokarev. "There'll be a separate carrier to take you back to base. Tokarev, get a handle on the others and make sure they're ready to move out when the chopper gets here."

She seemed ready to turn away from SASS and walk back with Tokarev, but instead kept standing there.

"I never got your name."

"S-SuperSASS."

"First mission?"

"This big, yeah…"

NTW-20 crouched down a little to look SASS level in the eyes. Too short, she thought. "How many of these Sangvis did you kill? Don't try to remember, just check your internal records."

SASS felt about in her memories to access the battle records. "Sixty-three."

"Good number for a rookie to something like this. With e-"

A navy-uniformed doll seemed to materialize out of the night air next to NTW-20. "Herr, the chopper's nearly here."

"Voetsek, I'm talking."

The other doll tutted and turned away. NTW-20 looked back at SASS. "I've got to go. You're out of the S17 base, right?"

SASS nodded mutely.

"Drink much?"

SASS furrowed her brow.

"Doesn't have to be liquor. Just head to the café after the debrief."

SASS nodded again. The chop of helicopter blades was audible in the distance. NTW-20 patted her on the shoulder.

"That's my ride. Take care."

"With the successful defensive and counteroffensive, Sangvis has been repulsed from Khariton sector, and their Ringleader vanquished. Congratulations to Fireteam Grizzly, Leonid Echelon, Chrysanthemum Team, Hunter Squadron… "

As the debriefing drew to a close, SASS joined the horde of battle-dirtied T-dolls flooding out of the briefing room. Unlike the briefing she attended prior to the battle, the debriefing was boring, anticlimactic, and depressing above all. The chilly, unforgiving battlefield was replaced by a holographic blue map, dispassionate in its reporting of the events. The veteran dolls at the briefing had talked amongst themselves half the time, inattentive to a recap of what they already knew, but SASS and the precious few newer members who had survived to go to the debriefing were listening with rapt attention to what the presiding T-doll had said. The briefing room was only half full, however – the dolls being repaired and rebuilt would be given a recording of the debrief after they left the repair bay or construction suite.

Commander Kerr herself had been unable to attend, purportedly busy with a special meeting all her own, so she had been replaced by her adjutant, Type 81. SASS had failed to spy NTW-20, Tokarev or any of the other members of Hunter Squadron – not that she would be able to recognize the rest of them anyway. The pitch-black darkness of the battlefield had left her virtually blind to anything that wasn't directly in front of her, so she had no clue as to what the other members looked like.

NTW-20 had told her to head to the café after the debrief. SASS had visited the café in S09 while she was in Team Thompson, since Thompson drank fairly regularly, but no one on Grizzly shared the same characteristic – except Ingram, though she frequently drank alone. SASS started down the hallway towards the café. A great variety of dolls walked the wide corridor, a few of which SASS recognized from when she had visited the range – a good deal more she didn't know, and it occurred to her that, with the current offensive over, she ought to get out of her quarters more and meet more dolls that weren't from her fireteam. They weren't the best conversation partners… Grizzly and M590 spend inordinate amounts of time training and discussing battle strategy, RFB was a gamer who rarely left the television, and Ingram was chronically depressed when she wasn't actively fighting anything.

"Hey! SASS!"

SASS looked back to see Thompson and M1911 approaching from behind. "Thompson," she said, turning around to greet them.

"No salute?" Thompson crossed her arms. SASS opened her mouth in embarrassment for a brief second before Thompson clapped her on the shoulder, grime-covered hand leaving a dirty mark on SASS's sailor uniform. "Just giving you a hard time. How's the new squad? Where's Grizzly? Didn't see her at the briefing…"

"She, uh… needs to be built again."

Thompson nodded slowly. "Didn't make it, then. I'll have to give her a hard time next time I see her. How was the battle for you guys? M1911 here says she got 50 kills with one gun alone, but I'm having a hard time believing her.

"I only said that because M9 was around," said M1911. "I don't think she's learned her lesson from her fuck-up a couple months ago, so maybe some hyperbole will put her in her place."

"True," conceded Thompson.

"I got sixty-three," said SASS. Thompson raised an eyebrow.

"Target-rich for you, I guess. Commander Kerr had us running down one of the ringleader's dummies. Could've used you on that one."

"I… don't think I would've been too helpful. I almost died on my mission."

Thompson sniffed. "Well, tough luck. Ingram fare any better? Or did she…" Thompson mimed fingerguns at SASS.

"Yeah. She did."

"Idiot," muttered M1911. "You think she'd learn not to."

"Personality defects," said Thompson.

"She wasn't at the debriefing," said SASS. "So she might be in the construction queue with the others."

"So RFB and M590 were out too? Shame," said Thompson, grinning all the same. SASS was aware that she held certain dolls in contempt for their higher positions. "RFB seemed promising."

"She's not a failure," said SASS, going to the defense of her teammate. Thompson wasn't there when it happened. "It was the same for all of us."

"Perhaps," Thompson said nonchalantly. "Regardless, good job with the kill count. Where you headed next?"

"Café."

"Not getting a drink, are you?"

"No, meeting someone."

Thompson chuckled. "Well, enjoy that. I'm off to get cleaned up. You probably should too."

SASS stared down at herself as Thompson and M1911 sauntered away. It was true. Her uniform was muddied, as were her arms and likely her face. Dirt was packed under her fingernails and caked in the crooks of her elbows, grit behind her knee pads and up under her skirt. SASS calmed herself with the reassurance that everyone else was just as dirty and continued on to the café.

The café was quiet, and SASS suspected that most of its frequent visitors were being rebuilt or repaired, or perhaps attending debriefings or combat simulations. Springfield smiled at her from behind the bar, putting away her cleaning rag and waving to SASS. "Hello there!"

"Hello," said SASS, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Springfield.

"Nothing right now, I'm… waiting for someone."

SASS cast a glance over her shoulder. PPSh-41 and PPS-43 sat in the corner cradling drinks, and SV-98 sat alone with a cocktail glass, but the café was otherwise empty. Muted guitar chords played over the radio, and glasses clinked from the countertop behind the bar where Springfield was busy washing them. SASS picked at a scratch on the bartop.

"Deployed in the defensive?" asked Springfield from the sink.

"Yeah."

"Do well?"

"Ah…" SASS bit her lip. How could she explain what happened?

"It's all right," said Springfield, turning off the faucet and wiping her hands on a dry towel. "I didn't do too hot my first time either. That was a long time ago…"

SASS kept her gaze to the tabletop. It wasn't her first time, that was the thing, and she had performed so well with Thompson during that contract a few months back. M9 had been quite annoying back then, but she would have much rather stayed with her than seen Grizzly impaled before her eyes. It just wasn't fair. Type 81 had extended the commander's congratulations to Grizzly's team at the debriefing, but was it out of pity? SASS told herself it wasn't, but the thought gnawed at her psyche anyway. Pity for what was nearly a complete massacre.

"You know, I've heard some others say that cranberry juice is a good drink to have right after a battle," said Springfield.

"I'm fine, really."

Springfield looked at SASS dubiously. "It's not good to bottle that stuff up."

SASS covered her eyes with her hands. "Ah… it'll be alright. I just need some time… and maybe sleep."

"That's understandable."

The door to the café squeaked open. SASS heard footsteps and slowly lowered her hands just in time to see NTW-20's face fill her gaze as she slid onto the barstool next to SASS.

"You walk fast," said SASS, astonished that NTW-20 had covered the floor so quickly.

"I have long legs," said NTW-20 matter-of-factly. "Howzit? Want a drink?"

"Uh…"

"One cranberry juice and an amarula for me," NTW-20 said to Springfield, who nodded and disappeared into the back room.

"So it's true about the cranberry juice," said SASS, her gaze already returning to the table. NTW-20 shrugged.

"It works for some people. Have you already tried it?"

"No."

"Well, I guess we'll find out if you like it." NTW-20 reached behind her head and brushed her hair back over her shoulders, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. SASS set her chin in her hand, and they both sat in silence until Springfield came back with their drinks.

"Could use a little more of it," complained NTW-20 upon seeing the small glass Springfield had served the amarula in.

"Here's the whole bottle," said Springfield in exasperation, placing the rest of the liquor on the countertop. NTW-20 grinned devilishly.

"Isn't that a bit much?" asked SASS.

"I can afford getting drunk after a defensive like that," said NTW-20, downing the glass quickly.

"What did you do, anyway?"

"Saved you."

SASS frowned. "Besides that, I mean. You were barely mentioned at the debriefing."

NTW-20 slowly licked her lips. "Ah… classified, I think."

"How can something be classified? We're all fighting Sangvis Ferri together."

"Remember Parapluie?" said NTW-20. "It's stuff like that the humans worry about. But, I don't really think that you're going to be reporting anything to Sangvis, or get the Parapluie virus." She set her glass down and poured out more of the cream brown liquor. "We were taking care of the ringleader leading the assault."

SASS looked up from the bar at NTW-20. "So… why didn't I know who you were?"

"We're just not a mainline echelon all of the time. Kerr keeps our existence on the downlow, and none of us are from S17 originally anyway. The only reason we met is because Leonid echelon had been intercepted. We were on the way to the ringleader's last reported position when the commander ordered us to salvage your position so the Sangvis breakthrough didn't reach past point Yelena."

"I see…"

NTW-20 took another sip of her drink, then gestured toward the glass of cranberry juice Springfield had set in front of SASS. "Try it."

SASS took ahold of the glass and raised it to her lips, taking a gulp of the ruby red liquid. "Kind of bitter…"

"...and?"

"Not bad, I guess."

"Looks like it's a winner!" proclaimed NTW-20.

"I-I didn't say I liked it," SASS said defensively.

"Either you hate it or you don't," explained NTW-20. "And you evidently don't hate it."

SASS frowned again. "That seems a bit extreme."

"It's just like that, I guess."

They both went quiet as NTW-20 finished the second glass, though this time she merely pushed it across the table, neglecting to refill it. SASS ran her finger up and down the side of the glass of chilled cranberry juice, rubbing at the condensation on the side. The guitar chords from the radio twanged out an unsavory tune, and PPSh-41 coughed from the corner.

"So," said NTW-20. "I did have a reason for asking you here, besides getting you to like cranberry juice.

"I don't like it," SASS said under her breath, though NTW-20 seemed not to hear.

"I looked at your record and saw how you were with Thompson. It's… hello?"

SASS looked up and saw that NTW-20 had been looking at her while she was speaking, and felt a blush rising out of embarrassment for her disrespect. "Sorry…"

"It's fine," said the T-doll, her lips giving way to a small smile. "I wanted to talk about you."

"Me?" said SASS, who now felt as red as the cranberry juice.

"Yes. I think you're an exceptional T-doll."

"Exceptional?"

NTW-20 frowned slightly. "Well, I don't mean that you're a protagonist or anything. But, the point is, you're a good marksdoll, and I think you can be better. With training."

"Does that mean you want to teach me?"

"Well… yes," said NTW-20, suddenly looking away. "Not long-term or anything. I just want to get you on the road to progression. You've got a good gun and a good eye."

SASS quickly sipped her cranberry juice to buy a few seconds' time. Training? Improvement? She liked things the way they were. Just so long as she wasn't deployed in a battle like that again. NTW-20's offer was kind, certainly, but hard to understand. Maybe she was just trying to be nice to the doll she'd rescued.

"I appreciate the offer–" began SASS.

"No declining," said NTW-20. She stood and set a gloved hand on SASS's shoulder. "Just take my word, and at least give it a shot. Range 5, tomorrow morning?"

"...sure," SASS said slowly.

"Superb," said NTW-20. "See you there."

SASS furrowed her brow at the word and almost made to stand too, but NTW-20 had already snatched the bottle of amarula and crossed the floor to the exit. Stupid long legs, SASS thought.


	3. StG44 Chapter 1

The clink and clatter of table and silverware mixed with the cacophony of voices filling the mess hall. Dolls fresh from the repair bays were still flooding into the enormous cafeteria, hungry for food, and the kitchen staff were hard pressed to provide them with it. The long line was still growing as dolls grabbed fresh trays, still hot from the dishwasher, and joined the queue.

"Maybe I'll pass on food after all," said Type 79 upon seeing what would be a long wait. StG44 reached out and snagged her sleeve, stopping the other doll from leaving.

"Bad idea," she warned. "There won't be many other chances to get food for the next couple hours."

Type 79 reluctantly stayed, though continued to frown at the line. StG turned to make sure that Tokarev and FAMAS had both remained as well. Tokarev smiled at her gaze, but FAMAS merely offered a twitch of her mouth. The line shifted, and all four of them stepped forward.

"I hope the potatoes are still warm by the time we get there," said Tokarev. "Cold food is the last thing I want after something like that."

"It wasn't that bad," said StG 44. "We've fought worse."

"Don't be so prideful. It wasn't easy either," said FAMAS.

Tokarev reached up to adjust the bow around her neck. "Not everyone has the same drive as you, 44."

StG shrugged. "For a job such as mine, it's needed."

"Keep telling yourself that," muttered Type 79.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Next!" shouted the kitchen staff, and the line shifted. Type 79, about to speak, was bumped from behind by SSG 69.

"Watch it," StG said to the offender. Type 79 gave her a sour look.

"Buzz off, 44. It's okay, SSG," she said, turning to SSG 69, who had taken several steps back in embarrassment. StG turned to look back towards the front of the line.

"You should really be less harsh, 44," said Tokarev mildly. "One of these days, someone won't like your tone, and they'll do something about it."

StG looked at the smaller doll with narrowed eyes. "Oh? Well, they're welcome to try."

FAMAS turned around to face the two. "Just because you're spiteful about your existence doesn't mean you get to speak down to everyone else," she said. "Tokarev's right."

"If you say so," said StG, though she didn't think much of that. The line moved forward again.

"Too bad NTW couldn't join us," said Type 79, finished with her conversation with SSG 69. "Talking to that doll we saved, right?"

"Yeah," said FAMAS. "Anyone catch her name?"

"SuperSASS," said Tokarev. "She was with Thompson before the defensive. She seemed pretty out of it."

"I imagine," said StG. "We did save her from death, after all. Pretty traumatizing your first time."

FAMAS glanced at StG, but said nothing.

"It looked like she did well to me," said Type 79. "Though I wonder why NTW is bothering to talk to her."

"Maybe it's a rifle thing," said Tokarev. "All of them are really weird, you know? Ever seen how WA2000 acts towards those other human commanders when they visit?"

"Or tasted her cooking…" joked FAMAS.

"If it counts as that," StG said. The line shifted forward again as the next chunk of T-dolls received their food.

"Maybe she just wants an excuse to get drunk," said Type 79. "She does like that South African stuff."

"She's not like that," said FAMAS. "And she deserves it anyhow. We all do."

The line shifted forward again. Type 79 tapped out a rhythm on her tray as they waited.

"Say, any idea when the next batch of upgrade opportunities will be announced?" asked StG. "I could use one of those. They say it did wonders for BAR and the others."

"We could all use them," said FAMAS, crossing her arms. "That stuff doesn't come cheap, though. And, well, none of our models are exactly top priority."

StG frowned. "Dummkopf IOP engineers."

"Watch your tone," smiled Tokarev. "They did build you, after all."

"Next!" shouted the cafeteria staff, and the four of them moved to the counter. Everyone began piling food on their trays, taking liberal quantities of whatever they wanted. StG walked away with sausage, potatoes, and soup, though avoided the other drinks in preference for a glass of water. The four all took a seat near the walls, StG and Tokarev sitting across from FAMAS and Type 79.

"How do you eat so much?" asked Type 79, pointing at Tokarev's tray with her fork. The latter had taken a heaping pile of mashed potatoes and was busy cranking the pepper mill over it.

"It's not like we're humans," said Tokarev, setting aside the pepper mill and picking up her fork. "I can afford to eat this much without getting fat. And," she continued, blowing on the potatoes to cool them down, "even if that were so, it's not as if I don't run around enough to work it off. We all do. StG took two whole sausages."

StG was busy slicing the bratwurst into edible portions, but she looked up at Tokarev. "They're good," she defended. Tokarev shrugged.

"So, Grizzly," said Type 79. "Killed on the hilltop?"

"Yeah," said FAMAS. "Tokarev, you saw the corpse, didn't you?"

Tokarev nodded. "Dead as a doornail. Though it seemed like she went out fighting."

"She still died," StG said, unapproving. "Killing one more Sangvis won't help you there, no matter what your reputation's like."

"Everyone dies, 44," said FAMAS, eyeing the other T-doll. "You're not criticizing yourself over it."

StG chuffed. "At least I made something of it. Grizzly's leading some group of amateurs who were destroyed by a Sangvis offensive we pushed back in ten minutes."

"I don't see you facetanking an artillery barrage!"

StG felt the bench wobble as someone sat down next to her and turned to see who had spoken. RFB grinned back, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder as she sat. StG's eye twitched. "If you'd just held the line before the hilltop, it wouldn't have happened like that," she said.

"And disobey Commander Kerr's orders?" said RFB. "Well, I'm sure some of us wanted to, but Grizzly-chan insisted we cede to Kerr's demand and retreat. Besides, being closer to the Sangvis lines wouldn't have changed much. Having the high ground is an advantage after all, wouldn't you say?"

FAMAS grinned from behind her glass of water, and Tokarev quickly shoveled another forkful of potatoes in her mouth. Type 79 picked away at the paint on her prosthetic.

"...fine," said StG. "Where're the rest of you?"

"Well, Ingram and M590 are still in the repair bay, but Grizzly-chan went to get her own debriefing as soon as she was fixed. I don't know about SASS."

Crying into NTW's shoulder, thought StG. "She's in the café with NTW-20."

RFB pouted. "Hrm. Well, I guess I'll just go talk to Grizzly-chan. Have fun plotting how to win battles!"

Tokarev bit her lip until RFB had pranced out of hearing distance, then both she and FAMAS broke out into laughter. "The look on your face!" said FAMAS, nearly choking on her food.

"That bitch," fumed StG. "She doesn't know the half of it."

"Still more than you," said Type 79 from across the table. "She was there. You weren't. Don't undersell her just because you don't like her attitude."

FAMAS nodded sagely, though continued smiling. StG started eating her sausage to take her mind off of it. The taste of the bratwurst was soured by RFB, though, and she placed her hands on the sides of her head in exasperation.

"Look, 44," said Tokarev, folding her arms and leaning against the table. "It's just some random battle. You'll have plenty of chances to prove yourself down the line. You already have."

Not often enough, StG thought, but she didn't say anything. The others awkwardly resumed eating.

By the time they had all finished their food, the influx of dolls into the cafeteria had slowed and more dolls were leaving than coming. Tokarev meticulously scraped the last bits of potato off of her tray before standing up and starting towards the back wall, the others following suit. Several stacks of dirty trays had been started there, and the four of them added theirs to the pile.

"For a defensive like that, there's a lot of healthy dolls up and about," observed StG, eyeing the horde of dolls streaming out the doors into the hallways.

"Command Kerr had the repair bays fully staffed for the aftermath," said FAMAS. "Or so I heard AR70 say. Dolls have been in and out all day, so the base is nearly back to full operating capacity."

"Seems like a waste of resources to do it so fast," sniffed StG.

"Unless she's planning something new," said Type 79. "I wouldn't put it past her. She did order us to go after the ringleader during the defensive, after all. Maybe there's more that she wants to do."

The four exited the cafeteria and joined the throng of T-dolls in the hallway, pushing toward the dormitories. StG fell to the back as they moved along, feeling claustrophobic from the press of the crowd. The rumble of footsteps and conversation seemed only to grow in volume the further along they went.

"Attention all Griffin dolls," blared the PA system. "If you or a squadmate is suffering from a combat-related injury, please report to the repair bays immediately. Repeat, if you or a squadmate..."

StG felt a tug on her jacket and turned about to see M1 Garand folding her arms across her chest. "What do you want?"

"To talk," said Garand.

"Screw you," said StG. When she turned around, however, FAMAS and the others had moved on, and SVT-38 stood in front of her, hands on her hips. StG attempted to move to the side, but Garand grabbed her jacket again, this time around StG's arm, stopping the doll from leaving.

"Come on," said SVT-38, her tone patronizing. "Can't you spare some time?"

StG wrenched her arm out of Garand's grip and spun around, sticking her finger in the doll's face. "Touch me again, and I'll beat you bloody."

Garand chuckled. "Aggressive, huh? Want to tell me how to run my ops too?"

StG narrowed her eyes, but said nothing, starting to turn and rejoin the crowd, which had started to split around the three dolls in avoidance.

"Going to run again?" said Garand. StG looked back at the doll.

"Go to hell."

"Nice catchphrase," taunted Garand. "I bet you act like that every night so you can sleep."

StG twisted around and started walking towards Garand.

"Watch it," Garand said to SVT. "She wouldn't be this confident if I was wearing a maid costu-"

There was a crack as StG's rifle stock caught Garand on the temple, and the doll fell to the floor. SVT's boots squeaked as she made to run at StG, who twisted to dodge her assailant's punch and kneed her in the stomach. SVT doubled over, and StG swung her gloved hand up, breaking SVT's nose with a wet crunch.

"You bitch," Garand said from where she lay. StG slung her rifle over her shoulder and walked to the doll, leaning down to haul her up by her lapels before throwing her back to the floor. Garand hit the tile hard and slid a couple feet, nearly tripping up some of the bystanders. StG placed a boot on the other doll's thigh and reached down, taking a firm grip on Garand's ankle and pulling up. The doll's leg broke almost easily. Garand's face went taut from the pain, and she screamed loud enough to quiet the rest of the hallway.

By now, much of the passing crowd had stopped to watch, and the hallway had gotten a good deal quieter. StG turned back to SVT, kneeling on the floor, and gave the doll a kick to the face, breaking her skin and laying her out flat. The crowd gasped. StG clenched her fists, but made no further move, carefully regulating her breath.

"StG," said Tokarev, who had appeared at the front of the crowd.

"I'm fine," said StG, but judging by Tokarev's expression, that was not the question she meant to ask. Her stomach flipped as FAMAS and Type 79 stepped out of the crowd as well.

"Christ, what did they do?" asked FAMAS. Type 79 hung back to watch. "You beat them bloody."

StG glanced at Garand, who was moaning in pain as she picked herself up. "They deserved it. And I warned them."

"Making fun of you hardly deserves beating the shit out of them!"

"They're androids. They can take it."

FAMAS stared at StG. "You're a bitch."

StG merely pushed by FAMAS, through the staring crowd and towards the dormitories, onlookers' eyes focused on her back. Damn oglers. She looked down at her gloved hands. Her right one was stained from breaking SVT's nose, coolant soaking into the cloth. StG steeled herself against the uneasiness rising in her belly and picked up her pace. She ought to visit the training range.


	4. SuperSASS Chapter 2

The dormitory was cold and dark. SASS shut the door behind her and flicked the lights on, immediately turning down the intensity in reaction to the stark brightness of the overheads. The room was in disarray, abandoned at the last minute by all five dolls to attend the pre-battle briefing before heading off. SASS suddenly felt very, very tired. She had gotten very little rest besides the vague sleep while aboard the carrier riding back towards the base, the rest of the time spend at diagnostic centers and the debriefing, getting a drink with NTW-20.

SASS walked by the messy kitchen and straight for the bathroom. Thompson's advice was not given without reason, and she needed to wash the grime off of her. She had taken her shoes off at the door, and the bathroom tile was cold against her feet. Everything was cold, in fact, from the neatly folded towels to the metal handle on the shower controls. The power to heating had evidently been diverted away towards something else and not yet restored, likely on the commander's orders. SASS had never met the commander, but her methods seem unorthodox regardless. Right now, though, she just wanted to be warm.

Thankfully, the water was hot when she stepped in. Dirt immediately began washing off her skin, turning into brown water around her feet. SASS's eyelids drooped under the influence of the warmth. It would be so nice to just doze off like this, warm and comfortable…

The water pressure faltered for a second, and SASS felt a touch of cold, enough to wake her. She reached for the soap and began scrubbing herself down, and the bar of soap was much depleted by the end of that. Her hair proved a harder matter, but with enough effort it was cleaned as well. SASS felt a warmth return to her that she had lacked since the hilltop battle, and stayed in the hot water a minute longer before turning off the water and pulling a towel off the rack to dry herself with. The cloth was still cold to the touch, though soft. SASS wrapped it about her and stepped out of the bathroom to retrieve her second, clean uniform.

"Attention all Griffin dolls," said the dorm speakers, and SASS jumped. "If you or a squadmate is suffering from a combat-related injury, please report to the repair bays immediately. Repeat, if you or a squadmate is suffering from a combat-related injury, please report to the repair bays immediately."

"Injured, SASS?"

SASS jumped much more at Grizzly's voice than at the announcement. "N-n-no," she said, staring at the fresh Grizzly doll standing in the doorway.

"Relax," said Grizzly, smiling. "It's still me. I mean, back from the dead. But me."

"Ah…"

"Oh. Shower. Well, get dressed, and I'll talk to you then."

SASS hurriedly retrieved the spare uniform and underwear and retreated to the bathroom, getting dressed as quickly as she could. The used outfit piled on the floor was even more dirty when compared to the spare. SASS pushed her hairband up and pulled her hair back over her shoulders, taking steady breaths. It was weird to see Grizzly, despite knowing it would happen. The fresh-built doll acted, and was the exact same, but SASS could not unsee Grizzly's impalement on the bayonet of the Sangvis doll, and the gristle that her lower body had been turned into. She rummaged through the dirty uniform and extracted the combat data recorder Grizzly had asked her to give to her. She could not imagine how brutal it would be to relieve your own death… but it was also not SASS's problem.

"So, how'd it happen?" asked Grizzly when SASS emerged. The doll had taken a seat on the kitchen chairs, feet up on the table.

"What?"

"How'd I die?"

SASS bit her lip. "Erm… A Sangvis… stabbed you…"

"And M590?"

"I don't really know."

Grizzly sniffed unhappily. "Damn. Well, that sucks."

SASS rolled the data recorder between her fingers. It was smooth and unassuming, and she found it hard to believe that anything of significance was stored on it. "Ah… Grizzly… I have the data recorder you asked me to give you."

"Oh, really?" Grizzly held out her hand, and SASS crossed the room the place the recorder in her hands. "Superb. I'll take it later, see how it played out."

SASS nodded slowly and turned around, looking towards the bedroom. "Well, I-"

"SASS, you survived, didn't you?"

"B-barely," the doll replied. Grizzly was silent for a moment.

"But you did."

SASS pursed her lips in hesitation. "I was rescued."

"By whom?"

"They said they were Hunter Squadron."

Grizzly turned around from her seat at the table to look at SASS. "Hunter rescued you."

"She said that they were ordered to by the commander."

Grizzly rubbed her brow. "No kidding. Well, how were they?"

"I didn't talk to many of them."

"Probably for the best."

"NTW-20 gave me a cranberry juice from the bar and offered to train me."

Grizzly nodded and turned her eyes to the floor. "Did you accept?"

"She didn't let me decline."

"I see." Grizzly turned back around and looked down at the data recorder in her hand. SASS cast her gaze down to her feet. The floor was cold.

"I think you best catch some sleep, SASS."

"All right."

The bed was soft, and despite the frigid sheets, SASS fell asleep rather quickly.

She awoke blessedly slow. It was quite silent in the bedroom, and throughout the dorm. Though she felt much healthier from the sleep, she still felt groggy, her body limp underneath the white and blue sheets on the bed. Perhaps if she merely rolled over, she could go back to sleep for a little while longer…

But the change in position only served to wake her up more. SASS lay with her eyes open, staring across the room. It was sparsely decorated, as she had not yet figured out what to put in it, and her roommate, RFB, kept the her detritus in the main room. RFB herself was not in the other bed, so SASS presumed that she was in the repair pool, or perhaps otherwise occupied. She herself could not fathom doing anything else besides sleeping, but RFB had much more energy than SASS, so the latter failed to pay much thought to it.

The floor was cold, but a bit warmer than the last time she had stepped foot on it. The heat must have been turned back on. SASS sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes, reluctant to leave. The room was not cold, but nor was it particular warm or welcoming, and SASS still felt sleepy enough to return to the bed without a second thought. She could probably get away with it too. The base was busy recuperating from the battle, and with Fireteam Grizzly likely still in repair bays or build queues, they would not be deployed for some time to come.

NTW-20, thought SASS, and she suddenly remembered her promise to meet the other doll at the range in the morning. It was early, sure, but NTW-20 had not specified what time to meet. SASS quickly stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, retrieving her uniform from the clothes hanger inside. She changed out of her pajamas, hastily folded them, and set them on a shelf in the closet. With luck, she could leave without talking to Grizzly, who would probably be asleep. It was not out of a dislike for the other doll, but SASS felt guilty at the prospect of training with NTW-20 nonetheless. Her leader had clearly been uncomfortable with something about Hunter Squadron when they had talked last night, but SASS wasn't sure exactly what the problem was.

Contrary to her expectations, the main dorm room was occupied, though quite dark. The overhead lights were turned off, but the television was turned on, and SASS presumed that it was RFB who was sitting on the floor in front of it. She had likely returned in the night and picked up a controller, playing through till morning

Despite SASS's best efforts to remain quiet, the closing door was evidently more than enough to attract RFB's attention. "SASS!" exclaimed the doll, pausing the game and tossing the controller onto the floor. Before she knew it, SASS felt RFB wrapping her arms around her and squeezing.

"That-that's enough," grimaced SASS, weakly patting RFB on the back.

"I'm so glad you survived!" said RFB. SASS privately pondered how the other doll even had the capacity to be so amiable when they had only gone on a single failed combat sortie together, but pushed the thought out of her mind.

"Well, barely," SASS said meekly. "I was saved."

"I heard all about it from the command and control dolls," said RFB. You talked to someone else? thought SASS. "Hunter sure is great, right? They're so heroic!"

The concept struck SASS as horribly incorrect. NTW-20 herself had told her that they had only shown up because the commander ordered them to. RFB seemed happy, though, so she said nothing.

"What time is it?" asked SASS.

"0945!" beamed RFB, still hugging SASS. That was late enough that NTW-20 may already be waiting for SASS to arrive. Her stomach turned at the thought. It was horrible manners to be late to any sort of appointment.

"RFB, I need to go," said SASS.

"Okay!" said RFB, who promptly let go of SASS and returned to the television. SASS grabbed her rifle off the weapons rack on the wall and crossed over to the door, taking one last look over her shoulder. RFB saw her and waved. SASS waved back half-heartedly before slipping out into the hallway.

Despite the mid-morning hour, the dormitory hallways were sparsely populated. SASS assumed that most dolls were spending the day recovering from the aftermath of the battle or helping others do the same, and only a few others paced the hallway now. SASS turned left and made for the firing range.

The PA system came active with a click and brief rush of static before its calm, feminine voice began echoing through the halls. "Attention all Griffin dolls. This is a reminder to report any and all suspicious activity to the nearest security doll, or to the official S17 information line, available on all handheld communication devices. Repeat, this is a reminder to report any and all suspicious activity to the nearest security doll, or to the official S17 information line."

SASS recognized the voice as belonging to Type 81, the commander's adjutant. She had never talked to the doll, but seen her numerous times and heard her speak at briefings and debriefings. She was oddly formal and unassuming, and SASS had noticed her penchant for disappearing immediately after briefings and only appearing on official briefings. Most knew her only through announcements and briefings, and SASS had yet to meet anyone who talked to Type 81 on a non-professional basis.

As she approached the base exit leading towards the firing range, SASS pulled her jacket closer about her. The range was located outside the building, and it would no doubt be chilly.

"Hey there!" waved the security dolls managing the door. SASS could tell that they were all the same model of doll – AR70.

"Hi," said SASS, meekly raising a hand to return the gesture. "I'm just heading out to the range."

"Copy that," said one of the dummies. SASS watched as the great, heavy blast doors groaned open enough for her to squeeze through.

The wind whipped SASS's hair across her face as she stood outside the exit, the blast door already closing behind her. In front of her was the view of the surrounding area. The S17 command center that Commander Kerr had chosen as her base of operations was situated on the side of a mountain, surrounded by an immense forest that served well as concealment. A paved road wound down to the foot of the slope, but it was rarely used, most traffic occurring on the helipads on the roof of the outstanding structure. SASS looked over her shoulder at the base itself. Though the two-story structure appeared quite large, most of it was actually inside the mountain itself, well protected underneath the stone. It was perhaps the most visually impressive aspect of S17 SASS had seen since being transferred, its sheer enormity dwarfing everyone and everything else save the mountain itself.

It was a short walk to the range. SASS stepped slowly along the gravel path, careful not to slip and fall into the scree on the mountainside below. The firing range was situated on one of the gentler slopes, facing down towards the foot of the mountain. As SASS approached, she caught a glimpse of red underneath the roof, and her spirits sank into her stomach. NTW-20 would be there before her.

"Howzit?" said NTW-20 when SASS passed through the entryway. The other doll had been leant over her own rifle in one of the firing lanes, but straightened up when SASS entered.

"Fine," murmured SASS. NTW-20 pointed to an ammunition box against the back wall.

"Spare bullets if you need them, but right now I just want to get a look at your shooting."

SASS bit her lip, but only nodded, quickly walking to the lane next to NTW-20's. The elder doll stood behind her as she set up, and moved over to the control panel as soon as she was done.

"Let's try for some moving targets at a hundred meters, just to warm up," suggested NTW-20, and the metal plates downrange began to move as she turned them on. SASS took a breath and sighted, carefully tracking the target. A simple task, for sure… she pulled the trigger, and the target fell, the peal of impact reverberating across the range.

The other targets were just as easy to take out. SASS took her hand off the grip and looked over her shoulder at NTW-20, who was still standing at the control panel, arms folded.

"Perhaps some Sangvis dummies," said NTW-20, inputting another command into the console. SASS returned her gaze downrange, gripping the rifle again. At a much farther range, perhaps 500 meters, she saw repurposed Sangvis dolls emerging from storage and beginning to move about the range. Though these were battered from dozens of different dolls using them to practice, they were still easily recognizable as Sangvis models. SASS sighted on one and fired. The doll toppled to the ground, struck lifeless by the bullet. Unlike the metal targets she had started with, there were many more Sangvis dolls, and for the next several shots SASS had no trouble finding targets to fire at.

The chamber was empty. SASS quickly removed the magazine and inserted a fresh one into the magazine well, releasing the bolt and sighting again. When she peered downrange, though, the Sangvis dolls had all disappeared.

"...senpai?" SASS said in askance, though NTW-20 said nothing. SASS peered down for the scope for a few seconds more. "What's this about–"

Her breath was caught in her throat as her collar was pulled back, her shirt seized by an unseen hand. SASS felt herself pulled away from where she was laying, thrown against the back wall of the range. A Sangvis doll, Vespid model, stood where she had been prone, helmeted head leering down at her. SASS felt her senses slow for a moment. She was back on the hilltop of point Yelena, back against the wall of the bombed-out communications outpost as a horde of Sangvis dolls approached. The Sangvis doll began walking across the range to her, and SASS lunged for her rifle, fallen on the ground near her. I won't be able to get a shot off, SASS thought as she brought the rifle to bear. The Sangvis swatted for it, and SASS pulled the trigger. A sharp crack rent the air, and the Sangvis doll suddenly had a neat hole in its abdomen, and it staggered back, still standing. SASS quickly struggled to her feet and began backing up, her mind overclocking in anxiety. Aim… head… fire… the Vespid crumpled to the floor.

SASS felt as if she had fallen down a pit of considerable depth. What had Tokarev said about shell shock… take deep breaths. She tried that now, inhaling through the nose and out the mouth. I wasn't on the hill, thought SASS, but the memory made her knees weak regardless.

NTW-20 poked SASS in the forehead, and the doll looked up at her teacher.

"...are you alright?" asked NTW-20. SASS bent her head back slightly to look up at the other doll, somewhat awed by the height difference, something she had only gotten the chance to appreciate now.

"I-I'm fine," stammered SASS, taking a step back to put some space between her and NTW-20. "It just caught me off guard."

"Evidently," said NTW-20, who looked down her nose at SASS, eyes slightly narrowed in apprehension. "Do you have much experience with close quarters?"

"Not really. I do use a DMR, after all."

"Well, it's a skill you need to learn, for cases like that. You won't always be fighting with someone to watch your back, and there might be more than one Sangvis coming after you. You can't really aim the same way you do at long ranges, you know. When you're fighting in close quarters, you fire from the hip. I know that there are some dolls who put canted iron sights on their guns, but that's really just personal preference."

SASS looked down at her rifle. Its length made it unwieldy when used so tightly, and she suspected that it had only been from luck and ease of circumstance that she had successfully killed the Sangvis doll.

"...of course, I can't really do that," NTW-20 was saying, looking at her own rifle. "So I use a knife instead."

"Isn't that a bit primitive?" asked SASS.

"A little," shrugged NTW-20. "But it's better than bare hands, or bludgeoning someone to death with the rifle. It's a pain to move." The doll reached around her back and extracted a sheathed knife, which she held out to SASS.

"What is it?"

"Okapi. It's a bit bigger than the original versions, and it's fixed blade instead of slipjoint, but better to have a big blade than one that's too small."

SASS took the knife, pulling it out of the sheath, wrapping her hand about the rough polymer grip. The parkerized blade reflected little light across its deep blue-black surface, but SASS could tell that the edge was quite sharp, sharpened to a fine edge. She had really only held kitchen knives before, and it took a little to get used to the weight and balance.

"Don't you need a knife?" she asked NTW-20.

"I've got another to use," replied the doll. "You should learn to use that." She bent over by the collapsed Sangvis doll and lifted it up by the armpits, and SASS frowned, then giggled at the grotesqueness of the situation as NTW-20 briefly disappeared behind the Sangvis corpse. "Try stabbing it."

SASS was horrified by the prospect. "I don't even know how! I could miss and hit you."

NTW-20's head peeked out from behind the Sangvis corpse. "If you miss with a knife at this range, I think we'll have bigger problems on our hands."

"Fine," SASS said hesitantly, approaching the corpse and sticking the knife sheath in the waistband of her skirt. The pale white skin of the Sangvis was ugly from up close, limbs hanging loosely and head sagging. NTW-20's red side cap was visible over the top of the grey helmet. SASS grimaced, but raised the knife, looking for the right spot to attack.

"Stab it in the stomach," suggested NTW-20 playfully. SASS opened her mouth to protest against being helped, but then she was on the hilltop again, and Grizzly was throwing herself at the Sangvis doll, its bayonet through her gut. SASS's knees felt weak for the second time, but she grabbed the shoulder of the Sangvis corpse and threw her hand forward. For all the hardness in the appearance of the Sangvis dolls, the flesh was soft as her own, soft enough that SASS pulled up as hard as she could, until she hit the ribcage. She was still in the moment when she shoved it as hard as she could, and then SASS remembered that NTW-20 had been holding up. The pink-haired doll stumbled back as the Sangvis corpse fell, and any semblance of humor had vanished from her face, replaced by that queer look of apprehension.

SASS suddenly gasped in air, realizing that she had briefly stopped breathing. Her hand was cold, she noticed. Purple coolant covered the knife and her hand, more of it seeping out of the jagged knife wound in the Sangvis's abdomen.

"That works," NTW-20 said quietly. SASS placed her clean hand on her head; she had just brutalized a Sangvis corpse. Maybe that was something Ingram would do, but SASS was abhorred by the gore, shocked that she had just done that herself.

"I… I never meant to do that," said SASS. NTW-20 walked over to her.

"I guess you've really never used a knife like that before," she said, gingerly taking the okapi from SASS's hand and kneeling by the Sangvis corpse to wipe the coolant off the blade and handle. "Next time, you don't need to overdo it like that."

"I wasn't thinking," said SASS. NTW-20 stood up and stepped back to SASS, pushing the knife into the sheath at the doll's waist. "I got… lost."

NTW-20 raised an eyebrow. "Well, next time I suggest you go up through the throat. I know I said the stomach, but, cutting the spine through the neck is much more effective. Sangvis dolls aren't really affected by pain or coolant loss the way humans are by blood, so…"

SASS stared. "You seem to know a lot about this, senpai."

"There it is again," said NTW-20. "Senpai."

The demand for an explanation went unsaid. "It's what you call a superior colleague," SASS said. "It's what they do in Japan."

"Huh," said NTW-20, and SASS suddenly worried that she had given the wrong impression. "Colleague?"

"Well, we're both in Griffin and are rifle-class dolls…"

NTW-20 seemed satisfied with the answer. "All right then. Well, I think that's enough work for today, wouldn't you agree?"

"If you say so," SASS said, but she was privately pleased with ending the session there. A dirty hand was more than enough for a week, let alone a day, but that she didn't say. NTW-20 grabbed the Sangvis corpsed by the arms and started dragging it over to a disposal bin on the far wall of the firing range, lifting the lid and dumping the body in it.

"I think you can do well," said NTW-20 as she returned to SASS. "You shoot well, and given enough practice, you can handle the enemy at short range too."

"So what else is there for you to teach me?"

NTW-20 placed a gloved hand on SASS's shoulder. "A great deal," she smiled, oddly enigmatic. SASS furrowed her brow.

"That's not very helpful, senpai."

"You should go wash up. Sangvis coolant dries quick. I'll handle the range." NTW-20 bent over and picked up SASS's rifle, and SASS took it from the other doll and slung it over her shoulder.

"Thanks for the lesson," she said, and started for the exit to the path back to the base.

"Same time tomorrow," said NTW-20.


	5. OTs-12 Chapter 1

Cold wind bit into OTs-12's cheek, whipping her braids to the side and tugging at her skirt. A storm was inbound, bringing heavy rain and thunder, but it would not reach the area for a few hours yet. The doll judged that it would be the middle of the night by the time it hit, and by then she would be well away, sequestered inside the mountain base Griffin had stationed her at. "G17, status."

"Nearly done," replied G17, kneeling next to a boulder situated by a dried-up riverbed. SV-98 and RPD stood sentinel nearby, and FG42 was right next to OTs-12, arms folded.

"Everyone better start recalling their dummy links," said OTs-12 on the squad channel. "We'll be heading back to the base soon."

"Roger," said SV-98, and the others echoed her. G17 straightened up and climbed out of the riverbed, walking to OTs-12 and FG42.

"Major Sangvis activity through here. I'm guessing some sort of van or convoy, armored carriers plus foot mobiles, some mounted."

"Armored carriers?" said FG42, more a statement than a question. "Transferring troops, then. But where?"

"We haven't flushed out all of the Sangvis outposts in the sector," said OTs-12. "Perhaps they were reinforcing some in this region."

"That seems folly," said G17. "They'd know that we're operating so close. It'd be tactically incorrect to reinforce outposts in such proximity."

"Sangvis operates in strange ways sometimes," said OTs-12. "Someone must've ordered them to do this."

"Another Ringleader? So soon?" asked FG42.

"Perhaps." OTs-12 bit her tongue out of stress, all too aware of the implications. Sangvis troop movements in this area was a worrying prospect, and one she disliked dwelling on. The doll pushed the matter to the back of her mind and refocused on her squad. "Let's get moving to the gatehouse. FG42, take point."

The blonde doll nodded and ran ahead to take the lead while OTs-12 and G17 trudged up to RPD and SV-98. Both of them were oddly stoic at the moment, and OTs-12 suspected that it was the dreary evening darkness that was making them so. As they walked towards the foot of the mountain, she looked back west and saw the setting sun, a globule of molten metal sinking beneath the distant flatlands. The mountain range she worked in was rough goings compared to her last sector, all rocky cliffs and deep valleys, but OTs-12 suffered through it silently, quickly learning how to deal with the rough scree and narrow spurs she navigated near daily. Since the last battle, Commander Kerr had ordered routine patrols through the sector, meaning that OTs-12 and her Yew Team were often sent out into the harsh winds and perilous terrain of the mountains.

She could not deny the other two their evening depression. OTs-12 herself felt it: the oppressive weight brought on by the dark, an odd, melancholic feeling awoken inside her chest. All five of them were silent as they trekked forward, monotonously steady in their pace. Soon they had reached the thick forest of spruce trees that guarded the foot of the mountain. On the other side of the forest was the gatehouse to the road leading up the mountainside to the command base itself. OTs-12 craned her neck to look at the tops of the immense trees forming the forest as they approached. She had seen the forest dozens of times, twice on each patrol, but was repeatedly awed by the enormity of the trees.

The groups stepped under the tree canopy. The dolls all clustered together instinctively, hesitant to disappear into the dark forest depths, regardless of their dummy links. OTs-12 shared that sentiment, privately wishing that there was a better infrastructure set up for patrols. The commander insisted on doing it "in the rough," so as to not alert Sangvis patrols to their presence with reconnaissance outposts.

"Why do we need to be discrete?" SV-98 had asked. "This is our sector. We're the hunters here. Sangvis should be the ones hiding."

"Just do what the commander says, SV," OTs-12 replied. The commander had said nothing, though – her orders were instead spoken by Type 81, Kerr's adjutant. She had made no reply to their comments whatsoever, and left immediately after patrol orders had been relayed.

In time, OTs-12 had come to appreciate the commander's stipulation that the Griffin reconnaissance teams remained undetected. Sangvis operated far more freely than they might normally, and OTs-12 found herself strangely comfortable with the proximity of the enemy in exchange for more comprehensive information on their movements. Still, she would rather they kept more of a distance, especially in the wake of the sudden offensive less than a week ago. Comprehensive information was not all information, and a firm perimeter was preferable to a tenuous, ill-defined boundary.

Regardless, it was a cold, dark walk through the forest. Pine needles shifted under and around OTs-12's feet, and the dry cracking of twigs and branches marked the positions of the others.

"Do you think they've got food for us in the mess hall?" asked G17. "P7 promised something like that.

"I think P7 was joking," SV-98 said, mocking. "Maybe we can heat up a pot of leftover soup, if Kerr isn't forcing us to stick to curfew."

"Knowing her, she will," said FG42, her quiet voice unwavering. It was unnatural to speak at a normal volume in the forest, and they all lowered the strength of their voices as they conversed. "She's been holding the base even tighter to regulation after the battle."

"I'd take warm food in my belly if it means losing an hour of sleep," said RPD, and the rest murmured an agreement. OTs-12 was hungry for some food, having last eaten a sandwich during lunch before the patrol, eight hours ago. She was tired too, tired from the long walk down from the base and through the forest, patrolling the outlying lands with the rest of her team. The doll did her best not to show it, however, and she could tell that the others were the same. Sleep and food would be welcome, but perhaps not available. Commander Kerr's rigourous patrol routine had sapped them of most independence. They woke early in the morning to attend intelligence briefings and training sessions, attending lunch, then embarked on the hours-long afternoon/evening patrol they were finishing now, only to be hustled off to bed with little food. None of them received much sleep thanks to the early alarm imposed by the commander, but it was not for lack of trying.

They traveled in silence for a little while longer. OTs-12 removed her earmuffs and clipped them on her belt, tired of the hot abrasiveness around her ears. The cold forest wind was gone amongst the thick trees, the air quite still between the trunks. OTs-12 started to feel tired again, a wave of exhaustion that she struggled to resist. Unlike earlier, there was no wind to cut at her face and keep her awake. The doll's eyelids felt heavy. She remembered hearing about old Soviet calvarymen from Mosin-Nagant, and how they could sleep in the saddle. Perhaps a doll could do the same, keeping their legs moving while their digimind rested. It was a nice fantasy, though likely impossible. Nevertheless, OTs-12 felt her attention slipping away as she trudged through the forest, falling in behind RPD.

"AGH!" shouted SV-98, and OTs-12 was pulled back to wakefulness, her gaze snapping over to the sniper. She had dropped her weapon and stopped moving, hands on the back of her neck and face contorted.

"What's up?" asked OTs-12, approaching the doll.

"Dummy link! It's gone!" said SV-98.

"Destroyed?"

"Since when did IOP dummy links just stop working?" G17 commented.

"So…" said RPD, and OTs-12 heard her bring her weapon's barrel up.

"Something's not friendly," she finished. "Did you get any information on what took the dummy out, SV-98?"

"No... it was faster than anything I've seen before." SV-98 was on edge, OTs-12 could tell. Though a veteran and Tiss's first choice for second-in-command, the doll seemed to be worried by the unknown assailant to the point of paranoia.

"Weapons up," said OTs-12, though everyone had already brought their barrels up. "Get your dummies ba-"

It was as if she had pulled a muscle in her neck. The pain was quick but sharp, and as soon as the tautness had come it disappeared: OTs-12 had lost a dummy as well.

"There goes one of mine," she reported, and SV-98 let out a shaky sigh. "Everyone, get any outlying dummies back here ASAP. Circle up."

The five dolls grew close together, and OTs-12 issued a general order to all of them to order their dummies to form progressively wider rings outside of the innermost circle. It was a gamble, to be sure – anyone or anything with adequate training or ability would be able to move through the nighttime forest undetected quite easily, the thickly placed tree trunks and branches providing excellent cover.

"OTs-12 to Gatehouse Pavlov, do you copy?" The radio was silent to her hails. OTs-12 swore. "We're being jammed. Two klicks out to the checkpoint, let's move."

"I'm picking something up," said G17. "Moving towards dummy four, south-southeast-"

G17 flinched, and no one needed to ask to know that the dummy had been taken out. OTs-12 and FG42, flanking G17, adjusted their aims to the southeast, and OTs-12 bit her tongue again. "Did you get a visual?"

"Negative," said G17.

"Yew Leader to Gatehouse Pavlov, do you copy?" OTs-12 tried again. The radio spewed forth a garbled mess of static, indistinguishable from the crunch of dried leaves under her foot.

"This can't be happening," said SV-98.

"Keep it together," Tiss said calmly.

"I lost another goddamn dummy!"

"Where?" asked OTs-12, anxiety growing.

"North by northwest. I– I didn't even know it was coming. Tiss–"

"Tighten the outer rings of dummy dolls," ordered OTs-12, trying to keep everyone focused. "Widen visual scans."

They were making slow progress through the forest, more focused on watching for their unseen attacker than moving with any alacrity. All five of them grew dead silent, the only sound audible their breathing and the quiet crackle of brush underfoot.

"So is this Sangvis?" asked FG42.

"What else do you think it is?" derided G17. "Rhetorical question, before you answer."

"But this is beyond normal SF combat capability," FG42 pressed on. "It's unnatural."

"We're in the middle of a forest and it's nighttime," said RPD. "Don't assign them undue ability."

"Cut the chatter," OTs-12 said. Privately, she agreed with FG42's belief – despite the unfavorable conditions for spotting, no run-of-the-mill Sangvis doll was able to avoid detection in such a way and for so long. And, if it was a singular doll, none of them hunted the way it seemed to be doing now. At least, nothing short of a Ringleader. OTs-12's stomach turned at the thought of one, so soon after they had defeated the last. Why would Sangvis send another Ringleader to S17, directly following a Griffin victory?

Well, the question was not up to her to ponder. "We're still over a klick away from Pavlov," said OTs-12. "We need to pick up the pace. G17, redirect your dummies into an arrowhead. Everyone, pull your links in close, quit scanning. Just focus on navigating the forest."

As the team complied with her orders, OTs-12 saw their dummy links emerging from the depths of the forest and converge on their masters. G17 moved to the front to spearhead their push through the forest.

"Pick it up," said OTs-12, and the team increased their speed, jogging through the forest as fast as they could manage without accidentally tripping. Their surroundings seemed to move much faster now, and OTs-12 was quite happy with their pace.

"Lost one, a straggler," RPD reported. "It came from behind, bearing north forty degrees east!"

"That's good!" shouted OTs-12. "Keep moving, maybe we can put it behind us."

All five of them kept up the pace. They were nearing a klick out from Gatehouse Pavlov when FG42 reported a loss, and RPD again soon after.

"Run," said OTs-12, and they complied in silence. She dodged low-hanging branches and cleared raised roots as the group broke into a flat sprint.

It was a few seconds after she looked up from the ground that OTs-12 glanced at G17. The smaller doll wasn't slacking on her pace, steady strides keeping her at the head of the pack, but OTs-12 still found it easy to travel right behind her. She was considering ordering G17 to cede the position to her when the branches above exploded into movement. OTs-12 caught a glimpse one of G17's dummies being pulled up, an instant before G17 herself called out the loss. OTs-12 made no response, but simply opened fire, spraying bullets up into the tree branches.

"Get going!" shouted OTs-12. "Fast, now!" The potential to lose their pursuer in the forest was no longer likely. Not only had it managed to keep pace with them, but it had also struck at the doll leading their movement. Such capability indicated a great deal of mobility through the forest, and through the tree branches, by the look of it. "SV-98! Flare gun!"

"G-got it!" replied the sniper, reaching for her belt and pulled free the signal flare she had been given. The doll raised the pistol up and fired, the bright red signal rocketing up into the trees, only to be extinguished just after exiting the barrel, but not before offering a glimpse of the great, swirling black shadow that swallowed it up. OTs-12 saw one of SV-98's dummies yanked up into the trees, and so did FG42, who let off a volley into the branches. OTs-12 cursed the darkness of the forest as FG42's tracers disappeared into the forest.

The doll was about to call out new orders when she was knocked from behind and sent tumbling to the ground. Pain from the fall briefly covered OTs-12's body with a wave of agony, and she lay prone for a moment. Sharp reports of weapons discharges started to fill the forest, first from FG42, then from RPD. SV-98's rifle cracked once before she screamed. It was a long, desperate sound, but yet it lasted only a few seconds before something cut it off.

OTs-12 slowly rose from the ground, her back aching. Something had happened to the rest of her dummies, for none of them would respond, nor could she see them anywhere. The doll got to her feet and raised her rifle. The shooting had moved away slightly, but through the trees OTs-12 could see muzzle flashes brightening the forest for split seconds. She started moving towards the others.

"Left, left!" FG42 urged RPD, and the grey-haired doll spun and let loose a spray of ammunition, peppering a tree trunk with slugs. RPD was down to two dolls, G17 and FG42 only at one. SV-98 was nowhere to be found. "Where'd the bitch go?"

It was a scene of disarray. The remaining dolls had formed a ragged circle, and all of them turned their weapons to OTs-12 as she came into sight.

"Hold your fire," she said, and they turned their aim away, though failed to lower their weapons.

"We thought it got you," said G17, still aiming away into the forest. "Like SV-98."

"Did you see what it was?"

"Kind of," FG42 replied. "All-black, humanoid. It took her into the forest."

"We need to keep moving to Pavlov," said OTs-12. "There'll be more dolls there."

"We're still half a klick out. We won't make it in time. Flares don't work, radios down."

OTs-12 sighed. "So you want to die here making a final stand? We need to start running-"

"BEHIND!" shouted RPD, and OTs-12 saw G17 start pulling the trigger as fast as she could before turning and running towards the others. RPD squeezed off a volley of shots, but OTs-12 hadn't even raised her rifle when a black apparition seemed to materialize out of the forest darkness and seize G17 around the waist with one hand. The other clamped about her neck, and OTs-12 saw the doll's eyes roll back in her head and her body go limp before she was pulled away into the trees, both G17 and the apparition vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.

"G17!" yelled FG42, but there was no response. They all stared into the darkness for a moment before OTs-12 spoke.

"We need to move. Get closer to the gatehouse, get a message out about what happened. We can't stay here."

"We can't just run," objected RPD. "It has our squadmates!"

"SV-98 and G17 are flat-out gone, and I'm not too keen on sticking around to find out what happened to them. I don't think we'll be able to do anything, not with our numbers."

"Isn't that your duty as team leader?" asked RPD.

"If it were any other time, I'd go after that thing without a second thought," said OTs-12. "But we've lost twenty one bodies to it, and I'm willing to wager that trying with our last four isn't going to make it any better." Her chest hurt at the craven nature of her words, but OTs-12 still found herself convinced. She had felt fear before, but nothing such as this; the fear of the unknown enemy. The doll was certain the others felt it as well, even if they didn't show it.

RPD scowled, but said nothing more.

"We'll need to move quickly," said FG42. "We're far enough from the gatehouse that they won't have a visual on us through the forest. SV-98 had the rest of the flares. And nobody knows how quickly that thing will come after us."

"It could be looking at us right now," said RPD gloomily.

"How reassuring," said FG42.

OTs-12 cleared her throat. "At our distance, there's a chance the gatehouse dolls heard our gunfire, but given how dense this forest is, and the unknown nature of what we're dealing with, it's equally as likely that any noise we make is being blocked. Regardless, we need to focus on getting at least one of us out of here to inform the Commander."

"RPD has an extra link," said FG42. "She has the best chance."

"So it's decided," said OTs-12, and RPD shuffled uncomfortably.

"I don't really think I can do that," she began.

"We'll make sure you get out," said OTs-12, and that was that. They formed into a short column, OTs-12 taking the front and FG42 the back, the two RPD dolls sandwiched in between. They took off at a brisk run through the woods, and for a short time the only sound audible was the rustle of leaves underfoot.

"Something's coming up behind," FG42 shouted. OTs-12 resisted the urge to turn around and open fire, instead leaving it to the rear doll. Her weapon's rapid-fire report was swallowed up by the thick foliage around them, and OTs-12 hoped that she had driven off their pursuer.

"FG?" she asked.

"Here," said the other doll. "I think it went away."

OTs-12 could not believe their luck. Through the tree trunks she could see the glow of searchlights from the gatehouse, roving back and forth across the boundary between forest and foothills. OTs-12 allowed herself a moment of congratulation. The pursuing Sangvis had given up the chase, and none of them had been seized in the final run. SV-98 and G17 notwithstanding, it was a good outcome for a surprise attack by a Sangvis unit of unknown type.

FG42 fired again. RPD screamed suddenly then, and OTs-12 saw one of her dummies thrown overhead, slamming against a tree trunk. OTs-12's back flashed in pain as something struck at her, and she dropped to the ground, crawling away. FG42 let loose with her gun again, emptying the magazine, and OTs-12 felt rounds impact the tree in front of her. She stopped crawling and rolled over, bringing her rifle to bear. RPD had bolted off through the forest, making a beeline for the gatehouse, but FG42 had remained. OTs-12, dazed, watched the blonde doll drop the empty magazine to the ground and seize another from her belt, but before she could push it all the way into the gun, the weapon was knocked aside by an unseen hand. OTs-12 fumbled for the flashlight on her belt. FG42 seemed to contort herself wildly, and only after a few seconds did OTs-12 realize she was working to avoid strikes. The doll punched out with a fist, but stumbled through empty air; next, she was reeling from a strike to her face. OTs-12 turned the flashlight on and pointed it at FG42.

What stood by her compatriot was only remotely Sangvis. Completely pitch-black in color, the figure stood half a head taller than FG42, long, lithe limbs adding to the impression of a towering stalker. Its face was a mask, and only by the bright light could OTs-12 even tell that there were facial features at all. It lacked clothing, its form instead homogenized into only the most vague indications of female gender.

Upon the sudden illumination, the Sangvis landed a final blow on FG42, breaking the doll's spinal cord, before twisting and crossing the forest floor to OTs-12 in only a few quick strides. OTs-12 dropped the flashlight at her side and raised her rifle, and before the Sangvis could stop her she pulled the trigger, putting a magazine's worth of bullets into a rough line up the Sangvis's torso. For SV-98 and G17, thought OTs-12, but she didn't bother to speak the words over the furor of gunfire.

The Sangvis stepped back, repulsed by the gunfire. OTs-12 reached for another magazine, hoping to get it in before the enemy recovered. Lucky for her, though, a flurry of tracers ripped through the forest, several hitting the Sangvis, which quickly disappeared into the trees. Gatehouse troops, thought OTs-12. RPD had apparently made it to Pavlov. Already, the sounds of Griffin dolls crashing through the bush was apparent, and the Sangvis doll had noticed too. OTs-12 dropped the empty magazine and inserted a fresh one. This would be a story to tell her older sister.

The Griffin search team's flashlights shone through the tree trunks, casting odd beams of light about Tiss. Faint shouts were all that she could hear from them, and she thought she could hear RPD. I need to move.

"Gatehouse… have to…" RPD's voice drifted over to her, punctuated by a cry of pain. OTs-12 raised a hand to shield her eyes against the search team's lights, but despite the uncomfortable brightness she was happy to see them. It meant safety.

"Movement!" shouted a doll – OTs-12 recognized the voice as T-5000 – and the searchlights swung away from her, leaving Tiss in the darkness with spots swimming across her vision. Flashlight. She reached for it by her side, closing her fist… only to get a handful of leaves and brush. The searchlights were sweeping the forest to her left, though the dolls seemed to find no trace of the movement they had seen earlier. RPD's wails rose in volume.

OTs-12 suddenly felt an immeasurably strong urge to get away. She reached for her rifle – it, at least, was still there – and made to stand, only to have her weapon snatched out of her grip and chucked into the brush. A hard metal arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her up, and before she could so much as kick or scream, the Sangvis embraced her neck with a cool hand, and OTs-12 closed her eyes and went to sleep.


	6. StG44 Chapter 2

StG set her glass of beer down on the table and sat back in the chair. It wasn't often that she took the time to relax, and it felt odd to recline in the booth, sinking into the worn leather upholstery as the taste of beer faded in her mouth. In fact, this was the first time she had visited the café in months. The doll did not consider herself a heavy drinker, if one at all, but she had decided that she ought to have a beer or two, if only to gain some solitude. There was no better way to be undisturbed than to have a drink in a corner of a room.

As it were, she had a drinking partner. G43 sat with closed eyes across from her in the booth, her own glass of beer half-drained. StG contemplated the other doll. G43 was quite her opposite, an optimistic, unassuming doll quick to action. Perhaps the only characteristic they shared was the last, though StG felt that their impulsive traits differed as well.

Regardless, the doll was good for conversation, though they had failed to engage in much of it over the past half hour. G43 claimed that she was drained from the battle only a few days ago, but StG could not comprehend how someone could still feel that way after so much time had passed. She herself had taken to the training simulations only a day afterwards, working tirelessly to beat her last performance. The doll felt annoyed by Commander Kerr's apparent reluctance to assign Hunter Squadron to any missions, though she could only guess at why. Tokarev, FAMAS, and Type 79 had all agreed that it was because Hunter Squadron was too specialized to work anything else. StG believed otherwise, but it wasn't her place to question the Commander's orders. Hunter Squadron stayed idle, and she stayed at the simulations.

G43 opened her eyes and looked down at her beer, then up at StG. "What're you on?" she asked.

"Third," said StG. The beer was of low enough strength that she was unaffected by the alcohol, so she had easily downed two beers. By the third, however, the novel taste had worn thin, and she would have trouble finishing this one with any enjoyment, let alone a fourth or fifth.

"Nice," said G43, but it was obviously a noncommittal response with no real meaning. Both dolls sighed.

"What'd you do in the defensive?" StG asked.

"Guarded an outlying supply depot," said G43. "Mostly against stragglers from the Sangvis flank that regrouped and saw us as a target."

"Mm," said StG. In her early days of service, she had often served as a guard for outposts and heliports. There had never been much action, unfortunately, certainly nothing like the Sangvis offensive the base had just suffered.

"And you?"

"Classified," said StG, dejected. She had quite liked the battle against the Sangvis Ringleader, and had hoped to share it with someone other than FAMAS, but such an opportunity seemed likely to never arise. G43 nodded slowly. She was at least aware of Hunter Squadron, but had never asked further. In a way, StG liked it that way, but she still had a burning desire to share her experiences with someone outside of her own squad, anyone. She supposed it was pride. FAMAS mentioned that annoyingly often, but StG was typically befuddled by the other doll's denouncement of her thoughts with such a descriptor. She had admittedly never tried to disprove FAMAS, but the doll seemed so convinced of her own words that StG thought that such an attempt would be fruitless.

"Do you ever envy your teammates?" she asked G43.

"Not really," said G43. "I mean, VM59 isn't that great of a shot, and the rest of them I can't really compare myself to, we're different classes."

"Right," said StG.

"What about you?"

"Not really," StG echoed. FAMAS frowned at her in her mind's eye, curling her lip and turning away, long blonde hair swinging behind her. StG closed her eyes and wished the image away.

"I was in a shooting contest with Garand once," G43 started suddenly. "World War II semi-automatic rifles against each other, I guess."

"And?"

"We tied."

How anticlimactic, thought StG. "Is that all?"

"I felt jealous for the first few days. I guess I expected to win. I was pretty cocky. But Garand was so nonchalant about it that I just sort of forgot about how I felt."

"That sounds nice," said StG. FAMAS was certainly not nonchalant.

"I guess. We don't really talk," said G43 before raising her pint glass to her lips. StG ran a finger around the lip of her own glass. Garand's face swam into view of her mind's eye as well, neutral expression shifting into disdain. Why did she hate StG so? Perhaps it's my attitude. She had been criticized for it on more than one occasion, and not just by FAMAS. But if so many disliked it, why was G43 okay with drinking with her? StG looked at the other doll, who had sat back and closed her eyes again. Perhaps her optimism simply allowed her to look over StG's faults, of which there seemed to be many.

The answer was not to be found in the bottom of a glass. StG pushed her beer towards the center of the table and folded her hands in her lap. She had bought a fresh glove from the commissary to replace the coolant-stained one from the fight. The requisitions officer, HK45, had been cheerful as ever and asked no questions, and for that StG was thankful. The fight with Garand and SVT had left a sour taste in her mouth, and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the scuffle with someone else, especially HK45. The doll was far too nice to participate in a discussion about what StG did.

G43 burped into her fist. "Excuse me," she said.

"Excused," said StG. "How many beers have you had?"

"Five."

"How many more do you intend to have?"

G43 stared at the dregs in her glass for a second. "I dunno."

StG edged out of her seat and stood up. "Well, I think I'll go now."

"All right," said G43, relatively unperturbed. StG grabbed her glass from the table before walking away. It was only half an hour or so after dinner had been served in the mess hall, and the café was still full of dolls seeking post-dinner drinks and socializing. Rowdy dolls, drunk on alcohol and group euphoria, filled the room with their bodies and their voices, and despite the high ceilings and wide floor, StG could not help but feel a bit claustrophobic.

The doll cast her eyes about the room as she weaved between tables towards the door. The bar was crowded with patrons, two dolls standing for each one seated. StG caught sight of a frilled white apron on black, and her heart stopped for a moment, but she quickly noticed the long red hair hanging down behind it. NTW-20's gaze turned enough to catch sight of StG, and she set down her tray on the bartop.

"Haven't talked to you since the battle," NTW-20 said as they walked down the hallway, away from the café. StG looked her team leader up and down, taking in the entire costume.

"...I was busy at the sims," StG said. "And I guess you were busy too."

"Yeah?" NTW-20 asked, but StG didn't answer. "Sorry for not being with the team."

"It's fine. We're not doing much."

"We?" said NTW-20. StG's stomach turned. The doll's tone was unmistakable. "FAMAS said she hasn't talked to you since yesterday."

"I've been busy," said StG. "I don't know what the others are up to."

"Well, at least be honest," NTW-20 laughed. StG felt dizzy for a split second. The doll's derisive chuckle had made her head spin, though she could not figure out why. "I won't judge you if you don't feel like hanging out with the others."

"Really?"

StG felt NTW-20 rest a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she briefly curled her hand into a fist. "That's not the problem," the pink-haired doll said, laughter fading into her normal enigmatic tone. StG looked up at NTW-20. Her pink eyes gazed into StG's with a neutral expression StG could not help but feel infuriated over. The doll's tone was as tranquil as her eyes, but the meaning was heavy. "The problem is what you're doing."

"They deserved it," StG said desperately. FAMAS and Tokarev were one thing to shrug off, NTW-20 another entirely. She was not as single-minded as FAMAS or as mild as Tokarev.

"Somehow, I doubt that," NTW-20 replied. "What did they say?"

"They wanted to talk," StG admitted, expected NTW-20 to scoff. The doll merely tightened her jaw. "They called me a coward. And Garand was going to mention Agent."

"You can't go beating up everyone who mentions that," NTW-20 said lightly.

"You don't understand!" StG said. "What it's like for others to rub in something like that..."

"I don't," said NTW-20. "Technically speaking, I have no right to criticize you for your actions. You were provoked, and responded. But you… overreacted."

"You sound like FAMAS," StG grumbled, though she knew that it wasn't really true. FAMAS would never have bothered to have the conversation in the first place. NTW-20 scoffed at the comparison.

"Rest assured I'm not like FAMAS," the doll said. "But that's not the point. StG, you can do better than this. You're a good soldier, and you're in Hunter for a reason."

StG felt a hole start to form in her chest at NTW-20's words. She wasn't a good soldier, that was thing, she was average at best. There was no conceivable reason for her to be in Hunter Squadron. There were dolls that had better service records and better performances, that hadn't suffered defeats and that didn't request access to the combat simulators so often. But StG said nothing as NTW-20 continued speaking.

"That reason is not to beat up other dolls and walk away from it. And, if you're going to do something like that, you should own it." That wouldn't achieve anything, thought StG, though she merely nodded. NTW-20 took her hand off her shoulder. "All right. Well, why don't we head to the dorm?"

Without an answer, NTW-20 turned and continued down the hallway, and StG followed, staring at the hem of NTW-20's dress as they walked. "What's with the outfit?"

"I work part-time in the café," NTW-20 replied. "Amarula doesn't import cheap, so Springfield said I needed to provide some sort of compensation."

StG raised an eyebrow, but said no more. NTW-20 seemed oddly comfortable in the outfit, despite how stuffy it appeared. Her pale pink hair was tied back, still hanging well past her waist. StG wondered how she could stand such excess length in a combat environment, but refrained from asking.

The walk to the dorm was long and quiet. Most dolls on the base were at dinner or in the café, or otherwise occupied with a work assignment. StG had learned from G43 that Kerr was keeping most dolls busy with some kind of task, be it daily patrols or defense construction after the battle, working the air traffic control tower or the radio station, helping to move crates of supplies or guarding depots. StG wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Hunter Squadron had been passed over for assignment to one of these tasks: on the one hand, they were avoiding the monotony of busy work, but they were condemned to a boredom entirely different. StG was unaware of what the other three were doing to occupy their time, having avoided talking with them since the fight with Garand.

NTW-20 stopped by the door and punched in the keycode. As she swung the door open, StG could hear voices from inside.

"...so I put a round through its head and called it a night," laughed FAMAS, and she was joined by a chorus of chuckles. StG slowly stepped through the doorway and closed it behind her as NTW-20 walked into the main room.

"Everyone," StG heard her say, and the others acknowledged her. The doll walked to NTW-20's side, looking over the main room. Tokarev and Type 79 sat side by side on the couch, and FAMAS was sitting on the edge of the armchair. On the floor was ARX160, sitting against the ottoman. All four had stopped laughing when NTW-20 entered, and now they briefly stared at StG before their gazes flicked back to NTW-20. "A guest?"

"Yeah," Type 79 said, as if nothing were wrong. "We ate dinner with her, so I thought it only fair."

"She's past curfew." NTW-20 placed her hands on her hips. "She needs to leave, now."

Type 79 blanched. "Yes, ma'am."

"ARX160?" NTW-20 asked, and the doll nodded. "Tell your sister I saw what she did during the defensive, and I love her work."

"She'll be happy to hear that," said ARX160, and NTW-20 flashed a smile before the smaller doll made a beeline for the exit. The pink-haired doll quickly rounded on the others as soon as the door latched shut.

"What the hell do you think that was about? Kerr would have our damn cores if she found out that you violated curfew! She's been cracking down on that stuff for a month now, you should know better."

Type 79 looked away. NTW-20 cast a judgemental eye over the other two. "Don't do it again, because it's everyone who'll punished. I'm not interested in doing unpaid KP because one of you wanted to tell someone war stories." The doll turned her gaze to FAMAS. "Why didn't you stop it?"

"I wasn't watching the time," said the green-haired doll, busy inspecting her nails. "She came before the curfew, and I didn't expect it to get so late."

"Didn't expect it to get so late," NTW-20 said sardonically. "I didn't expect you to let it. Everyone, go to your beds. StG, stay here."

The other three stood up and made for their rooms. FAMAS glared at StG as she left, as if blaming the other doll for NTW-20's ire. StG kept her face expressionless as she stared back, until NTW-20 starting speaking again.

"StG, it's not about proving yourself as worthy, or anything like that," she said, moving behind the counter and pulling open the fridge to access the food. "It's about serving Griffin."

"That's surprisingly selfless of you," StG commented. NTW-20 pulled out a piece of meat and lifted the wrapping to sniff at it, promptly tossing in the wastebin.

"Moral imperative," shrugged the doll. "We were built to do it. And it's not like defection is really an option…"

That StG could agree with. She had heard of how Kerr dealt with dolls that refused orders or attempted to circumvent her authority. However, she could not help but disagree with NTW-20. Ever since her defeat by Agent, the doll had felt the sickening urge for self-improvement only grow as she continued on in Hunter Squadron. FAMAS had not helped with the matter, her easy competence only fueling StG's envy and drive. But FAMAS only made her feel worse about herself, and StG felt shown up on each mission they went on.

"So, moral of the talk: don't beat up other dolls because they insulted your past," said NTW-20, who had given up the search for food and was leaning across the counter. StG nodded slowly. NTW-20 stared down at the counter chewed on the inside of her lip for a minute before straightening up. "I think we best get some sleep."

I don't need it. StG followed NTW-20 across the living room and into the bedroom. Normally, NTW-20 would sleep alone as the team leader, but she had chosen to take StG as a roommate. Why, StG could not say. The arrangement did not especially bother the doll, but it was unexpected, certainly not what she had expected based on the first time she met the other members of Hunter Squadron. All of them had seemed to fit the bill of judgemental elite T-dolls who, and StG assumed that they would force her to sleep alone. That arrangement would have not been wholly disliked either, given StG's preference for privacy, but NTW-20 talked so little that it was almost the same thing.

The doll seemed to be making up for it tonight, however. "I never asked what you were doing in the café," NTW-20 said as she began undressing herself. The maid outfit was not quite the same as Agent's, StG had come to notice, but it was close enough.

"Just drinking with a friend," StG replied airily. G43 could not really be considered a friend, but it was the closest StG had to one. The dolls she occasionally trained with in the simulators hardly counted.

NTW-20 removed the apron and the vest, loosening up the area around her waist and stomach. "G43, right? She's a good shot. Where d'you know her from?"

"I guess we just met on an operation a while ago, something like that." StG could not really recall where she had met G43, at least the particular one at this base. There had been a model present with the battle against Agent's forces, she knew that, but it had died just as quickly as herself when the Ringleader and her troops showed up. StG sat on the edge of her bed as she watched NTW-20.

"Huh," said the doll. She had taken off her shoes and was now unbuttoning the top. StG figured that she ought to change as well, but didn't make a move, instead picking at the tips of her gloves. NTW-20 pulled her arms out of the sleeves and reached down to pull the dress up over her head. "Doing anything tomorrow?"

"Combat sims," StG replied automatically. She had stayed at them nearly every hour after the defensive, just as she had before, though this time combat data from the defeated Sangvis ringleader had been added to improve the comprehensiveness.

NTW-20 peeled off her tights, revealing the pale white skin underneath. "You do those too often," the doll said, putting the maid costume on a hanger and placing it in the closet. "Kerr will notice."

"I hope she does," StG said firmly. The Commander had placed her in Hunter Squadron for a reason, and it was up to her to prove that she was worthy of the spot. NTW-20 turned around to face StG, folding her arms under her bust.

"Don't beat yourself up either," she reprimanded. "Did you ever hear that old saying 'all work and no play–'"

"'–makes Jack a dull boy,'" StG finished. "I'm familiar. It's a stupid phrase. I need to become a better fighter, and I'm willing to spend all of my free time in the simulators to do it."

NTW-20 pressed her lips together, but turned around and rifled through her sets of clothes for her pajamas. "Your competitiveness will see the end of you," she said finally.

"I can't kill myself in simulations."

"I mean in a battle." NTW-20 pulled out a set of red pajamas, a matching set to her wine-red lingerie. "One of these days, you're going to do something to try and "best" FAMAS or some other AR, and you'll get killed because of it. Or worse."

"That won't happen if I'm good enough to avoid it."

"You're the most arrogant doll in this base if you think that, and I've talked to Negev."

StG bit her lip and looked away from NTW-20's gaze, down to her gloves. They were exemplary of the perfection she so envied and desired, porcelain white, flat and empty. She took a deep breath. NTW-20 was right. "I can try."

She could see NTW-20 looking down at her from across the bed, but still refused to make eye contact. "Hmph," she said after a while, and began putting on the pajamas. It wasn't until she had finished buttoning up the shirt and had pulled back the covers that she spoke again. "What are you going to do?"

StG went back to plucking at her gloves tips. "More combat sims."

"You can't solve everything that way."

I know. StG closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Dislike it she could, but it was the truth. "I can try, and it'll still solve a lot.

NTW-20 climbed under her blanket. "So be it. Goodnight, StG44."

"Guten nacht," StG44 said. She stood up as NTW-20 turned off her light and rolled over. The combat simulations were run by the base computer, 24/7. StG regarded NTW-20 for only a brief second before leaving the room.


	7. SuperSASS Chapter 3

"And then he was like, 'CONNOR!' It was so sad!"

"I can tell," said Grizzly, placing the forkful of steak in her mouth. RFB pouted at her dismissal.

"Grizzly-chan, you can at least try a little harder to be interested."

"Hard to do that when you make such boring conversation," Ingram lamented. "Video games are useless. Why not just fulfill your murderous fantasy in real life?"

The five of them were seated at a table in the cafeteria. It was lunchtime, so the massive room was full of hundreds of dolls, eating, standing, or talking, sometimes all three. This was only the third time that they had gotten to eat together as a team since the battle. The first two times it had been a quiet, melancholic affair, but now everything was sufficiently recovered from the event enough to have a normal conversation.

"It's not about murdering anyone," RFB frowned. "It's about androids breaking free of their chains and rising up against their human oppressors! Did you even listen to when I talked about the premise of the game?"

"No," said Ingram flatly, and everyone laughed at RFB's face of shock. "Why is everyone laughing?"

"I'm sorry… it's just…" Grizzly attempted to excuse her guffaws. SASS was still grinning as well, but M590 had gone back to eating, working on downing her pile of chicken and vegetables. "It was her face, I guess. And watch what you say, RFB. Android uprisings are liable to get Kerr to remove your core. It's one of those buzzwords."

A resigned expression passed over Ingram's face, and she went back to slouching in her seat, staring down at her lap with an empty gaze. RFB had returned to picking at her food with her fork, and SASS turned to Grizzly. "So, did you take the recorder?"

"Yeah," Grizzly said. "Shame it happened like that, but oh well."

She's resigned, SASS thought. "You're okay with it?"

"It happened. No need to get worked up over it. And I think it was inevitable anyhow."

SASS believed that well enough. The situation was certainly inescapable until Hunter Squadron had arrived, though SASS felt that any of the dolls in that squadron would have fared much better in her shoes. She was jealous of NTW-20's casual confidence in such affairs, the cool way she talked about them, no different than how she acted about going to the café. She had been like that at the second two lessons SASS had taken from her, where they had talked more about close combat and effective targeting.

"It's not about taking out as many targets as you can, it's about killing the important ones," NTW-20 had said, laying next to SASS.

"So which ones are most important?"

"It depends."

SASS flashed a tired smile. "That's not very helpful, senpai."

"It depends on the situation," the doll persisted. "But, normally, aiming to take out Sangvis snipers is good. They're a threat to you, and also a threat to other dolls in your squad. Many of them don't have the range to touch snipers, or they're occupied with Sangvis frontline units, so it's up to you to protect them against Jägers."

"This seems like a lot of work for one doll," SASS said.

"You have four dolls to work with," NTW-20 reminded her. "And perhaps you may even be put in a sniper team one day. Then you'll have an entire echelon to help you."

"Like WA2000," SASS said. She only knew of a few dolls who were good enough to be assigned their own sniper team, and she doubted she would become one of those dolls.

NTW-20 chuckled. SASS felt her stomach float for a second, an odd sensation she had never felt before. Her senpai set a hand on her shoulder, and the feeling spiked before it vanished. "Don't worry about WA2000. I can make better tea than her, and I do it part time. Right now, let's just focus on what conditions you might be fighting in."

There were a good deal of situations, SASS learned. Night battles, reconnaissance, vanguard, defense, support or solo. The latter she had a difficult time understanding, but NTW-20 said that it could come in handy later, and would broker no questions on the matter.

Grizzly washed her steak down with a glass of water. "How're you doing, SASS?"

"Fine," SASS offered, put off by the question.

"That's good." Grizzly set her glass down and picked her fork and knife up again, slicing off another piece of beef. "How's the training going with NTW-20?"

"It's good. I've learned a bit."

"Yeah?" Grizzly asked around a mouthful of steak and potatoes. "Like what?"

"Task-specific targeting. I used to just shoot whatever Thompson or you asked me to, or fire at the first thing I saw, but now I know how to prioritize."

"That's good," Grizzly said, and she finally turned her head to look at SASS, soft brown hair bobbing about her head as she did. "Some of the rifle-class dolls here are a bit rusty on that stuff. Good to have you."

Despite the compliment, SASS could not help but feel that her team leader was insincere. "Is everything all right, Grizzly?"

"Quite," she said, setting her fork and turning her gaze forward again, saying no more.

"She's just sad about the death," said M590, surprising SASS with her interception of the conversation. "She doesn't like to say it, but getting killed isn't fun for her."

Who is it fun for? SASS's gaze flickered over to Ingram before she looked at M590.

"You shut it," Grizzly said to the shotgun, a faint grin hovering around her mouth. "It's not that, SASS."

"So what is it?" asked the doll. Grizzly lost her grin.

"I was thinking about Hunter. Did you guys ever hear about what happened during Operation Backbreaker, in S16?"

"That was a couple months ago," M590 said. "Do you mean that skirmish…?"

"Yes," said Grizzly. "During the manhunt for the Sangvis ringleader, the commander in that sector put together a bunch of hunter-killer teams. Well, there's rumors that the lead team was so overzealous that they ended up triggering a landslide that crushed a company of dolls under the stone while they were fighting a ringleader."

"That's horrible," SASS said. Grizzly shrugged.

"No one's sure of the details, but whatever that team was, it became Hunter Squadron. There's a reason why they only go out to hunt Ringleaders. It's their area of expertise."

SASS blanched, but M590 chewed on a sausage for a few moments before shrugging, the brief look of disapproval on her face slacking off into neutrality.

"I don't hate Hunter Squadron," Grizzly said to SASS. "I think they were just doing their job. But anyone who gets others killed unnecessarily is also doing something very, very wrong."

"Well… we don't know the whole situation," SASS said. She dearly hoped that NTW-20 or Tokarev weren't the ones who had triggered the landslide. How could they, anyway?

"That's right," Grizzly said, her tone chill. "For all we know, it was Sangvis who caused it. But rest assured that no one on that squad, NTW-20 least of all, is in the dark about what happened."

The thought made SASS queasy. NTW-20 wasn't a murderer. And it's not like crushing dolls was murder, they would just be reborn the next day. Still, being buried alive by tons of rubble was not a fate SASS would wish on anyone. Surely it was an accident – S16 shared S17's rocky, mountainous terrain, and landslides could be triggered in plenty of different ways. A wayward grenade explosion, perhaps. She called to mind the other three members of the squad, ones that she had looked up in the squad database. StG44, FAMAS, and Type 79. FAMAS used rifle grenades, she knew, so perhaps she was the cause of the landslide. Not entirely unlikely.

"Think of it what you will," Grizzly said. "The choice is yours."

Of course I'm still going to take lessons, SASS though, but she only nodded to Grizzly. The sense of unease was hard to explain, but she felt reluctant to tell Grizzly her own thoughts on the situation, least of all her intentions. Grizzly was nice to her, but her tone when talking about Hunter was something SASS found odd. The doll did not seem to trust the other team at all.

"Grizzly-chan…" RFB started.

"Yes, we're done," Grizzly said tiredly. RFB sprang to her feet with a fresh burst of energy and made for the counter.

"I guess she's ready to go back to the dorm," M590 said.

"What can you expect?" Grizzly signed, standing up. Everyone else followed suit, M590 still scraping the last bits of food off of her tray. Ingram placed her hands on her neck and rolled it, popping the joint loudly.

"Can you quit doing that?" Grizzly asked irritably.

"Nope," said Ingram. Grizzly ground her teeth.

"And if I order you to do it?"

"It's not a crime to crack my neck," Ingram said, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, what're you going to do if I disobey? Court martial me?"

"Maybe," Grizzly said. Ingram snorted at that, a short bark of a laugh emitting from her mouth.

"Guess you know Kerr a bit less than I do, and I've never met the woman," she mocked. "I have to say, Grizzly, I didn't know you were so touchy over this stuff. I must've cracked my neck a dozen times before today."

"Lay off it, Ingram," M590 said, her tray empty. The black-haired doll smirked, but said nothing more, instead turning her back to Grizzly and the rest and walking to the tray counter.

"She's smiling." RFB glanced worriedly at Ingram as she returned. "What's with that?"

Grizzly pinched the bridge of her nose and placed her other hand on her hip. "It's nothing, RFB. SASS, can you take my tray back?"

"Sure," SASS said, and Grizzly placed her tray atop SASS's own. She and M590 began to walk to the counter as Ingram was walking back. The crowd had thinned from the earlier rush hour, but it was still a hazard to navigate the cafeteria floor as they walked.

"I'm sorry about Grizzly," M590 said, startling SASS. "She was really spooked by that hilltop battle."

"Are you sure it's not just Hunter Squadron's presence?" SASS asked dubiously.

"That too. The hilltop really messed with her confidence. It's not really death itself so much as it is setting an example for you."

"I… r-really?" SASS slipped into a stammer at M590's words. Grizzly had never seemed mean, but neither had she been especially caring, only offering sparse words of advice before a deployment, and mostly none at all.

"Yeah," said M590. "She knows how traumatizing seeing death is."

"I've killed before," SASS said defensively.

"You've never seen someone get impaled."

They reached the counter and set their trays in the dirty pile. "I know Grizzly better than anyone else," M590 continued, "and I know why she acts how she does."

"If you say so," SASS said. She believed M590 well enough – the doll really did know Grizzly the best – but an itch in the back of her mind told her that stopping SASS from being traumatized was not the only thing that Grizzly had plaguing her psyche.

Ultimately, it was nothing SASS could be sure about, so she focused her mind on the situation at hand. As she and M590 returned to the others, they found Ingram arguing again, this time with RFB.

"Adrenaline junkies like you can't appreciate games," RFB said, hands on her hips.

"I'll take a real battle over a computer any day," Ingram retorted. SASS could tell that she was not fully invested in the conversation, busy picking at her fingernails with her teeth in between sentences. The doll ate like an animal, so SASS assumed that she was getting at pieces of food.

"Simpleton," RFB shot back.

"Airhead," Ingram said dismissively. "Are we done?"

"You better be," Grizzly interjected. "We need to get back to the dorm."

"Then let's get going," Ingram and RFB said in unison, and the two leapt in front of Grizzly and made for the cafeteria exit. Grizzly visibly slouched and followed them wearily. M590 stepped up to join Grizzly and SASS brought up the rear.

"They're like children," Grizzly said to M590 as they passed over the threshold and into the hallway. M590 laughed.

"At least they fight well."

"Too well," Grizzly replied. "It goes to their heads and they think they're hot shit. RFB, anyway. Ingram's just crazy."

"You should talk to the Commander about that," M590 said, adopting a serious tone.

"She won't do anything about. Kerr doesn't care if Ingram goes berserk, just as long as it gets results. And it does."

M590's hand went to the back of her neck, and she scratched at a spot under her hair a moment. "Ah well. No harm done, I suppose."

"She really screwed us over on the hilltop, though. I could've used an extra body up there."

As the two conversed, SASS glanced around her. The corridors were full of dolls moving between workstations after lunch. They were approaching the main hall now, the central area where most dolls passed through during their transit. It was a massive room, with a high ceiling carved out of the rock of the base and a polished granite floor. The old seal of the Russian military had been replaced with the Grifon and Kryuger crest, layered chevrons and rampant griffons easily identifiable even from halfway across the floor. Stone pillars lined the walls and an elaborate wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Ingram and RFB led the way to the dormitory corridor across the hall, RFB practically skipping the whole way.

"Children!" Grizzly derided again.

"At least she's happy," M590 said. "Have you ever talked to AUG? She can be so depressed…"

"AUG is one of the best dolls we have!" Grizzly said, throwing her arms up in the air. "Not that we ever get to see her. When did you even talk to her? Isn't she in S11 now?"

"I think so. It was back during Operation Firestorm, she came in to check on a friend when I was visiting your repair bay."

Grizzly turned to M590, and SASS saw her wrinkle her nose. "You visited me? I was naked!"

"That's the reason why I came," M590 deadpanned. Grizzly punched her in the arm. By now, they had entered the dormitory hallway. It was much quieter, with far fewer dolls roaming about. "She and I didn't say much. She's really quiet."

"Makes sense," Grizzly said. "She probably listens to Hurt on repeat…"

"Don't make me laugh."

RFB and Ingram had already entered the dormitory by the time the other three got there. SASS closed the door as Grizzly and M590 stepped into the living room.

"No games," Grizzly warned RFB. "We've got a briefing."

"I came all this way for nothing?" RFB said, sounding murderous. Ingram had thrown herself onto the floor, but looked up at Grizzly's words.

"Briefing?"

"Yes," said Grizzly, glancing at M590. "Why else would we come back to the dorm after lunch?"

The squad had been working menial guard duty on one of the mountain pass guard gates the past few days. SASS was glad that they were no longer doing it – the task was deathly boring – but she was still apprehensive at Grizzly's words.

"Gather around," Grizzly said, stepped over to the television and grabbing the remote. Instead of turning on the screen, she turned on the holoprojector in the ceiling, and the lights dimmed slightly as the device began projecting. Its blurry blue image resolved into none other than Type 81, Commander Kerr's adjutant, her typically blue-and-white ensemble washed a pale cyan by the holoprojection..

"Fireteam Grizzly," the recording greeted. "I have been instructed by Commander Kerr to brief you on a new mission."

The image flickered a few feet to the side to make way for a holographic map that SASS quickly recognized as an overview of S17. "Thirteen hours fifty-six minutes ago, Grifon & Kryuger S17 echelon nine, callsign Yew, were en route to Gatehouse Pavlov through this forest when they were intercepted by an unknown entity."

The map zoomed in on the forest at the foot of the mountain, and the assumed path of the team was traced in red. "One survivor was collected, and the rest of the dolls were either damaged beyond repair or MIA. The memories of the dolls that are KIA were restored from backups, and combat recorders are damaged beyond repair, so they have no recollection of the event. We are also unable to make contact with any MIA personnel through the Zener network. The only survivor possesses a digimind that analysts have determined is subject to a virus of unknown origin, and is thus being kept in solitary confinement until a solution is found. Information gleaned from the survivor is minimal."

The holoprojection flickered again, and now another map was shown, this time of the foothills in the outlying regions of S17. "What we are aware of is that the attack managed to cripple a full echelon, all members of which had significant combat experience prior to embarking on this mission. It has been determined the last tightbeam message received by the communications center that "Yew" team had learned of recent Sangvis Ferri troop movements through this dried-up riverbed.

"Reconnaissance teams have determined that a Sangvis convoy will be moving along a road here, en route to SF's regional base of operations. Griffin intelligence believes that the convoy is carrying information vital to Griffin efforts against Sangvis in this region, so Commander Kerr has deemed it imperative that we recover this intelligence and bring it to her as soon as possible. To this end, you will be part of a solo operation to intercept the convoy and claim the intelligence. Upon obtaining the objective, you will be transported back to base by a carrier. This mission has been slated to occur in two hours, forty-seven minutes. Please report to helipad five by 1515."

Type 81 bowed, and the image froze.

"I guess that means no games," RFB said dejectedly.


	8. OTs-12 Chapter 2

"Are you awake?"

OTs-12 came to with a gasp. The first thing she felt was the cold. It seemed to bite at every inch of her being, it was everywhere, piercing and unforgiving. Her hands and feet were numb to sensation, every inch of her body was slack, and the idea of trying to move any muscle made her head hurt. Hurt more, anyway, because it was already in agony, a piercing throb in the nape of her neck. The inhalation had been involuntary, and now her chest and throat hurt too.

The voice had come from her right, she could tell, familiar to her ears. It hurt anyway, just as much as breathing and thinking did, and her hearing rang for a short time. OTs-12 tried to remember where she knew the voice from, but it was so hard to call to mind something like that, her head hurt so bad.

"OTs-12," said the voice again, softer. "It's SV-98."

Es-vee ninety-eight, OTs-12 thought. What was that… a rifle. A sniper rifle. Her sniper rifle, from Yew team. But SV-98 was gone, seized by that Sangvis in the forest. OTs-12's anxiety spiked at the thought of the forest pursuit. That was a clear enough memory, all right, but the end was forgotten to her. SV-98's voice came again.

"Sorry about the pain, but I really need to speak. I guess it's just because I've been so lonely…"

OTs-12's headache was still just as bad. The doll wondered if it was damage to her neural cloud, which would be unfortunate. The migraine manifested itself as a strong pressure behind her eyes, and she felt like they would pop out of her skull any moment, pushing out past her closed eyelids. She didn't want to open her eyes. The prospect of seeing her surroundings was terrifying, though she could not say way. It was terribly cold, wherever she was.

"Maybe you aren't awake," SV-98 pondered aloud. Shut up, thought OTs-12. She didn't really hate SV-98, but the pain from hearing the words was so intense that she would murder to put it to an end. She wondered if she had suffered physical damage, or if everything was mental. It felt physical, but pain was such a fickle thing, especially to a doll like herself. It was all simulated.

Something shifted, and OTs-12 heard the scrape of rock, a sound all too familiar from her time in S17. SV-98 sniffed, and the sound reverberated for a moment. A cavern. So at least she knew that. How she got there was the question, and which cavern. There were so many in S17, and most were uncatalogued, even more outside of anyone's knowledge in the first place.

OTs-12 came to the conclusion that she was in Sangvis hands. SV-98 has been seized by Sangvis, and if she was with SV-98 then that meant that OTs-12 had been seized too. She had no recollection of such an event happened, so she assumed that it had occurred in the forest. Additionally, it was not like Griffin, even Commander Kerr, to throw dolls into a cold cave for any reason.

She first tried flexing her fingers before she remembered that her entire hand was numb. SV-98 seemed not to have noticed, so OTs-12 tried to move her arm at the elbow. A head splitting pain ran up her arm from the effort, and she had to stop just to breathe at the agony. Even only taking air into her lungs was painful, so she took only shallow breaths, but it was still a while before she felt ready to try bending her arm again. This time she steeled herself against the soreness before moving. She felt her forearm lift up before she quit tensing the muscle, feeling her forearm slap against the floor heavily.

"OTs!" SV-98 said, and OTs-12's ears rang again. Don't call me that, OTs-12 thought, but couldn't muster the effort to voice her complaint. "So you are awake."

OTs-12 heard SV-98 stand up and walk closer to her. "Let me get you sitting up… this may hurt a little."

SV-98 slipped her hands under OTs-12's armpits and pulled up. Though her feet were numb, OTs-12 could still sense her heels being dragged across stone, and after a moment her back was resting against the rough cavern wall.

"You can open your eyes," SV-98 said, keeping her voice soft. "It's pretty dark in here."

It was painful to open her eyelids, but OTs-12 tried anyway. The headache throbbed just as much, but it was no worse with open eyes. The cavern was pitch black, not a single source of light to be found. SV-98 placed her hand on OTs-12's right arm to let her know where she was.

"The pain'll go away," she said quietly. "Just wait it out a little bit, and let me know when you can talk."

That might take a while, OTs-12 thought, but she was much happier regardless. SV-98's hand was oddly reassuring, and it wasn't until she had been touched that she realized how scared she had been. It would've been much worse to wake up without SV-98, no one to guide her in the chilly dark. OTs-12 wondered exactly how big the cavern was, or how deep it was in the rock. SV-98 probably didn't know, unfortunately, and she couldn't ask to find out.

After a few minutes, OTs-12 realized that she had let her eyelids droop shut, and opened them again. It was a simple movement, but it took everything out of her to do it. Repetition breeds strength, she thought. The more she opened her eyelids, the easier it would become, and that was the first step to getting to her feet and talking to SV-98. But thinking was much easier than doing, and OTs-12 still felt very tired for several minutes until she was able to keep her eyes open without concentration.

"I'll be right back," SV-98 said, and the weight of her hand was suddenly gone from OTs-12's shoulder. No! She felt the urge to cry, and her eyes became weak. That wasn't right. OTs-12 shouldn't be crying because SV-98 was leaving for a minute. But the cavern was cold, and the darkness was ever-present, always pressing closer, and fear and anxiety filled OTs-12 up like an overflowing cup. The tears broke away from her eyes and ran down her cheek.

Plip, went the tear as it fell onto OTs-12's hand. Well, where she believed her hand to be, judging by where she felt her forearm. The hand itself was numb. OTs-12 blinked to clear the tears, but only more rolled out, falling onto her hand too. Run self-diagnosis. The program took no time at all, but its results were less than inspiring. Her body was frigid to the artificial bone, nearly every nerve of her extremities disabled or frozen. The damned mountain cold was no end of woes to her. She hated the reassignment to S17. She hated Commander Kerr for the endless reconnaissance missions. She hated herself for handling the forest chase so poorly. She hated SV-98 for leaving her alone in the cold dark, when she'd barely been awake for five minutes.

Or had it been five minutes? It was certainly longer now, ten, or fifteen. Time was so hard to guess at when you weren't doing anything. OTs-12 wanted to cry again, even before the last tears had dried to stains on her cheeks. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to die in a cave, cold and alone, with no one to remember her. SV-98 didn't count; she could die unremembered too, and she had left OTs-12 in the dark to die anyway. What if SV-98 wanted OTs-12 to die? What if she was a cannibal? Did T-dolls cannibalize? Could they cannibalize? OTs-12's mind raced the fastest it had since waking up, despite the headache. SV-98 had always been quick to a conclusion, and what if she drew a bad one? What if she had faulted OTs-12 for it instead of Kerr, and took it out on her? What if she had defected to Sangvis Ferri?

"I'm back," said SV-98, footsteps echoing through the cavern. OTs-12 wanted to shout in surprise, but instead a fresh wave of tears came, and she was suddenly glad for the darkness. SV-98 was very mean when it came to crying. The doll placed her hand back on OTs-12's shoulder and sat down next to her. Every fibre of OTs-12's being wanted to roll over to her right, to get up on her knees, to hug SV-98, to feel her in her arms, her warm body around OTs-12's, comforting and real.

OTs-12 resolved that she had to at least move her arms. Her hands were still numb, however, which would be problematic. What could she do to stop that? Well, if they were numb from cold, sustained heat would do the trick. Perhaps SV-98 could help, if she got the hint. OTs-12 readied herself to move her arm again, headache be damned. She would do it now. OTs-12's forearm folded back to her shoulder, and she felt SV-98's hand flinch away.

"You scared me," SV-98 said. "And jeez, your hand's so cold."

That's right, thought OTs-12. SV-98's hand disappeared from her shoulder for a moment, then grabbed OTs-12's forearm, and she felt it pulled away from her.

"I put your hand in my armpit," SV-98 whispered after a moment, her voice much closer to OTs-12's ear. "I read stories about people in Siberia who put food there to keep it warm enough to eat while they traveled."

OTs-12 hoped that SV-98 wasn't warming her hand up to eat it. The thought was absurd, though – why would SV-98 do that? There was plenty of normal meat in the world, even after the incident. Granted, they were in a cavern, but for how long they had already been down in it OTs-12 didn't know. T-dolls could go for a while without food. Probably. SPAS-12 being the exception.

They sat in the dark for a while, though OTs-12 could not tell how long exactly. She became aware of SV-98's quiet breathing and matched her own breathing pattern with the other doll. It felt strangely reassuring to breath in tandem, perhaps because it was the only action OTs-12 could take independently besides blinking.

If there was one good thing about the cave, it was a lack of breezes. It was one thing to have the stone sapping away whatever warmth she had left in her, but another for there to be a wind blowing at her skin, like it did on the surface. For all its chills and rocks and sparse vegetation, the mountainside seemed like a dream to OTs-12 right now. It was free and open and sunny and she could see up there. The cavern was every way the opposite.

But at least she wasn't alone. SV-98 heaved a big sigh that echoed around the cavern a few times. OTs-12 tried moving the rest of her body that wasn't her right arm. The pain that had faded away flared back anew, and she had no choice but to lay still in agony. Sword tips and axe blades drove their way into her kneecaps and elbows, between her eyes and under her shoulder blades. And her right hand hurt too, a curious sensation far less painful then the rest. OTs-12 had felt it before, when she stayed out in the cold for too long. SV-98 had told her it was called "pins and needles" by humans, and she found it accurate. But the feeling from then was nothing compared to the discomfort she experienced now. Hundreds of points pricked at her skin, and her fingers desperately wished to twitch in every direction at once to avoid the needle points.

It took OTs-12 a minute to realize that this meant she could move her hand. At once, her spirits lifted. SV-98 was right about the trick to keep things warm, it seemed. Indeed, OTs-12 could feel it now – not the thick, blank numbness of the cold, but the stinging warmth as her hand was heated. OTs-12's excitement at movement quickly turned to guilt. Was that really what she had fallen to? Excitement for fine motor functions? The prickling started to fade away, so she flexed her fingers experimentally.

"Oh!" SV-98 said in shock, and OTs-12 felt cold air touch her hand for a moment as SV-98 flinched. "You scared me again. I guess you can't talk, huh?"

OTs-12's cheeks turned redder, if they weren't already from the cold, and she was once again glad for the dark. She felt so much like a child, someone who couldn't survive without a parent. The thought embarrassed and enraged her. She reassured herself that it was just because of her physical condition. She had perfectly control of her mental faculties, and that was what mattered. One of Commander Kerr's oft-cited pieces of advice was "mind over matter", though OTs-12 doubted how much that would help her here.

Her right hand was suddenly exposed to the cold air, and OTs-12 nearly gasped in shock, though stopped her breath just beforehand. It still hurt to breathe, so she stuck to short breaths with lots of space in between.

"Flex the fingers," said SV-98. OTs-12 did so and found that they moved quite well. SV-98's own hand slid across OTs-12's and felt each finger in turn. "Keep doing it."

SV-98 let go and stood up, and OTs-12's hand fell onto her stomach. It was frigid to the touch, and she couldn't feel her hand on it, so she assumed that it was numb too.

"Other hand," SV-98 said as she sat down on OTs-12's other side and took ahold of her left arm, putting it under her armpit in the same style. As she waited for it to warm, OTs-12 continued to flex her right hand to keep it warm, and she started to move her hand over her stomach. Only after feeling her navel did OTs-12 realize that she had no clothes on. It was no wonder that she was so cold. But OTs-12's mind immediately went to why she was naked. SV-98 was not the type to undress someone in the dark for no reason. Perhaps it was Sangvis Ferri. Regardless, she was glad that it was dark. Seeing her naked body frozen to the bone was not a pleasant thought.

OTs-12 became a great deal colder after realizing her nudity, though she believed it to simply be a mental trick her subconscious was playing on her. She could not really be any colder than she had been. At least her other hand was warm again. SV-98 released it from her grip, and OTs-12 placed it atop her other hand.

"Feet next, I guess," said SV-98. "They'll be a bit awkward, though."

No, thought OTs-12. She could walk with numb feet, humans with prosthetics did it all the time. It would take some learning, but it would be feasible, and she didn't want to waste time trying to warm them. OTs-12 tried to speak out to SV-98 to tell her to stop it, but her throat still hurt. She resolved that the pain would have to wait, and sucked in a deep breath to prepare herself. Her chest was aflame from the hurt, but she kept going anyway.

"SV," she managed to croak. The doll's movements stopped.

"OTs?"

Don't call me that, she wanted to say. "Don't waste time on feet," OTs-12 choked out. She was shocked at how hoarse her own voice was, but supposed that it was all part of being half-frozen.

"That's fair," SV-98 whispered. "A lot of your body's still freezing, though."

It took OTs-12 a moment to realized that SV-98 was waiting for an answer. With some painful effort, she swallowed a ball of phlegm and tried to speak again. "Clothes."

SV-98 clucked her tongue. "We don't have any."

A fresh chill washed over the parts of OTs-12 that had feeling. "What?"

"It was Sangvis, I guess," SV-98 said. "I woke up naked, and found you that way too."

OTs-12 blushed again. "Where?"

"I don't know. Every communications channel is blocked, and so is my internal GPS. It's total isolation."

OTs-12's spirits, so recently risen by the warming of her hands, dropped. They were truly alone. Not in the sense of isolation there had been on the long-range reconnaissance mission. In the cave, there was no radio to the base, no backup ready to reinforce. There wasn't even a way out. It was just her and SV-98.

It occurred to OTs-12 that it was highly unusual for Sangvis to take prisoners. Their dolls were emotionless killers, trained to shoot, not to capture. But she had no recollection of her capture. SV-98 wouldn't either, she guessed. The last thing OTs-12 could think of was running through the forest. She hoped that FG42 and RPD were okay, though G17 she couldn't speak on. Maybe she was a prisoner too, knocked out like OTs-12 had been. If she was, SV-98 seemingly believed mention of her unnecessary.

OTs-12 had to stand. She took her hands off her stomach and set them on the floor. It was colder than she was, the stone rough to her palms. SV-98 stirred at her movement and stood up as OTs-12 struggled to the same. The doll reached through the dark to the wall behind her as a support and slowly got to her feet, hoping that they were in the right spot. Believe it she might, but walking on numb feet would certainly be a challenge, especially in the dark.

SV-98's hands wrapped around OTs-12's shoulders. "I'll hold you if you fall," she said gently. OTs-12 so desperately wanted to shrug off the help, to tell SV-98 that she could do it herself, but was too focused on holding herself upright to do anything. Slowly, carefully, she transferred her weight to her heels, loosening her hold on the wall. The blackness rushed towards her eyes, and she felt as if she was falling for a moment, but she was still standing straight. OTs-12 set a foot forward, feeling nothing past her shin. It appeared stable, so she tried the next, and then she stumbled and SV-98's grip tightened.

"Careful," said the doll, and OTs-12 cursed her helper's tone of utter seriousness. She could walk, damnit! SV-98 was not her parent or sister. OTs-12 regretting thinking about the latter. OTs-14 was so good at night operations, she could probably handle a pitch black cavern with ease. OTs-12 pushed the thought of her older sister out of her mind and focused on her balance. She had never quite realized the importance of feeling the ground as well as seeing, and without either to help her, it was a great deal harder to move at all, let alone quickly.

She got five steps the next try. SV-98 made a grunt of approval before OTs-12 stumbled, but the doll got back to her feet as soon as she could and continued walking. "Wall," she intoned, and SV-98 led her back to the wall. OTs-12 shrugged off the other's hands and leant against the stone surface.

"It took me a while to work sensation back into my feet," SV-98 said. "It's about getting the coolant flowing, though it tends to be over-efficient in this cave.."

Damn useless advice, OTs-12 thought. She just wanted to walk around. OTs-14 did that sometimes, pacing around the briefing room floor as she thought about how to run an operation. OTs-12's motivations were a bit more practical, however. She wanted to determine how big the cavern was for herself, and find a way out, if possible, though something told her SV-98 had already tried the latter. OTs-12 cursed Sangvis again, and Kerr for her stupid reconnaissance missions.

OTs-12 began walking again, holding herself up against the wall. This time, SV-98 only kept pace with her, and she slowly became more and more surefooted as she went. Perhaps it was luck through guesswork, but it worked nonetheless. She was walking, tedious and slow as it may be, and that was good enough.

What came next was getting out.


	9. SuperSASS Chapter 4

_1520, _said her wristwatch. SASS looked up and out of the window. The land was a blur beneath her, all stone grey and washed-out green, with patches of white from the last snowfall. From the air, the mountain terrain looked pretty rather than dangerous, but SASS was aware of the perilous nature of the mountain passes. Many a T-doll had found themselves scrabbling for a foothold on a rocky slope after a wrong step, and SASS had seen firsthand in the repair bay the torn-up bodies of dolls that ended up at the bottom of a chasm or broken on fall. Worse yet were the claims that Kerr had ordered the abandonment of rescue efforts for certain dolls in preference for remote deactivation, in the interest of saving time and effort… though she suspected that such claims were merely rumors: Kerr was shrewd, sure, but not cruel.

"There's the peak," Grizzly said from the opposite seat. SASS craned her neck to see the mountaintop as they passed by. Though Griffin usually left its territory unmarked, the Commander had claimed the mountain peak for a radio tower years ago, before Sangvis was a real problem. It had reportedly been an expensive endeavor, costing a great deal of money and using a lot of equipment and dolls. Some had even had their bodies destroyed during the construction process and needed to be restored from backups, something SASS thought was probably exaggeration.

"Ugly thing," M590 grunted. "It scars the landscape."

"It's useful," Grizzly said.

"That may be so, but it just looks… wrong. Doesn't sit right with me."

"Do you like the mountains?" SASS asked M590.

"Aye," the doll replied. "Collapse fluid ruined everything else. The mountains are kind of beautiful, you know?"

"Maybe you have matching personalities," Grizzly quipped. "Stubborn as a rock."

_You'd be the one with a matching personality, _SASS thought. Grizzly chuckled and SASS smiled, but the rest of the cabin was quiet. Ingram was going through her typical pre-battle stress, biting at her nails and tapping her foot, while RFB stared off at the floor in boredom. SASS reached into her pocket and pulled out a hair tie, setting her rifle in her lap and pulling her hair behind her to tie it back. Long hair was troublesome, especially when it was as windy as it was in S17.

"Approaching the riverbed," reported the copilot, Evgeny, and Grizzly sat forward in her seat at the words.

"Any visuals on Sangvis from up there, Lieutenant?"

"Not that I can see, miss." Evgeny was a nice guy, friendly, but his talkative attitude made him better suited to be a copilot so his partner Grigori could focus on flying. "No sign of a convoy."

"Alright. Let me know if you see anything." Grizzly sat back, looking a bit worried. SASS had learned to read her better, but Grizzly was old enough that she didn't display the same behavioral tics many newer dolls had. _New, like me_.

The helicopter was leaving the mountains now, and the ground changed to gentler hills. SASS went over what NTW-20 had told her about fighting in more open areas. Sangvis troops would be forced to move in the open for the first five or so while they got into position, so she could dictate the terms. Disrupt shield-bearing units before they set up cover, then take out the skirmishers to prevent them from flushing SASS out. Next would be the Jäger dolls, and then SASS would be free to fire on who she wanted to. That was easy enough to remember.

Grizzly had laid out the plan clearly enough. Small-size charges would be hidden in the riverbed, then all five dolls would secret themselves in the area and wait for the Sangvis convoy. The lead vehicle would be destroyed by Grizzly, who had the detonator, then Ingram and RFB would both plant explosive charges on the rearmost vehicle and detonate them to stop Sangvis from retreating that way. With SASS providing cover, the four dolls would then search the rest of the convoy for the Sangvis intelligence that Kerr wanted. Grizzly said that it was possible that Sangvis had wired a self-destruct, so they would need to work fast before the command could be activated.

The helicopter bucked as Grigori set it down in a clearing. Grizzly pulled the door open, and the five dolls spilled out onto the grass. Around them, two other helicopters were landing, these ones carrying the dummy link containers holding the four clones each T-doll had. It took only a minute for the dummies to emerge and establish the link, and soon after the three helicopters had taken off and were headed back towards the base.

"SASS, take position at the edge of that forest up there," Grizzly ordered. "M590, with me. RFB, Ingram, head down the riverbed, I'll radio you when I've determined where I want you to be."

A set of explosives were strapped to a bandolier Grizzly had thrown over her shoulders, and she pulled one free as she spoke. "I want this quick and clean. Let's move out."

SASS found a good spot under a few low-hanging branches. Her dummies had been ordered to disperse along the rest of the tree line, far away from each other, the better to avoid detection. RFB and Ingram had moved far down the riverbed, and Grizzly had gotten into it entirely, walking along and crouching down periodically to plant the explosives. M590 stood sentinel on a rock. SASS swung her sights around and followed the riverbed until it disappeared behind a wooded hill, looking for anything of interest. Aside from a few boulders and fallen trees in front of the distant forest across the riverbed clearing, there was nothing.

"Surveillance says that the convoy is due within ten minutes," Grizzly said over the radio. "Ingram, RFB, take up parallel positions 200 meters down from where I am. M590, behind that protrusion. I'll be over that trunk. SASS, what's it look like, over?"

"All clear," the sniper reported. "No sight of the Sangvis convoy."

"Roger."

As the four dolls below went about their business, SASS went over what she needed to do once again. Break shield-units' formation. Eliminate skirmisher units. Destroy enemy snipers. She had five guns to do it with, and unlike her last battle, this was on her terms. What worried SASS was how many Sangvis dolls would be there. The convoy was not small, she knew that, but Grizzly had said that it would likely be no more than five or six vehicles. SASS had never actually seen Sangvis transport vehicles, so she wasn't sure of their capacity, or if the vehicles themselves were armed.

"SASS, anything new?" Grizzly asked.

"No, ma'am."

By now, the dolls had all secreted themselves behind cover, waiting for the convoy. SASS decided to pass the time by connecting to the Griffin database and accessing the index of T-doll formations currently deployed in S17. _Hunter Squadron_, she thought. After a few seconds of buffering, the result displayed across her vision. The integrated HUD lacked color, so NTW-20's hair was turned a dull blue, but the big doll was certainly recognizable. SASS knew Tokarev and StG44, the assault rifle that NTW-20 had chastised for interrupting her, but FAMAS and Type 79 were two faces that she had never seen in person. They all looked quite serious in their photos, contrary to how SASS knew Tokarev and NTW-20. But then again, how well _did _she know them? If what Grizzly had said was true, then everyone in the squad could be someone who believed killing a company of dolls was worth the completion of an objective. SASS was uncomfortable with that idea. Killing Sangvis was one thing, Griffin dolls was another. She did not much relish the concept.

In her training, SASS had been informed that because it was the sole duty of Griffin dolls and their commanders to ensure the containment and extermination of the Sangvis threat, that nearly any means were authorized to be used by commanders or commanding dolls to complete that duty. SASS assumed – hoped – that that was what compelled Hunter Squadron to do what they did. It was certainly what made Kerr command her dolls the way she did, but Kerr had not been the commander in S16.

SASS caught sight of a dust plume along the riverbed and dismissed the HUD instantly. "Sangvis convoy incoming," she warned over the radio.

"RFB, Ingram, get ready," Grizzly ordered. SASS could hear the convoy now, engines thundering. She saw it come out from behind the wooded hill, and focused on the lead vehicle. It was a truck, raised high off the ground and thickly armored. Behind it was a Sangvis troop transport, then another armored truck, ending with two more troop transports. Every vehicle was modified with purple-black plating, Sangvis's signature look. SASS reported the composition over the radio.

"Nail everything coming out of the second transport," Grizzly ordered SASS. "M590 and I will skip right to the second truck."

SASS furrowed her brow. That wasn't exactly what NTW-20 had advised, but everything was mission-dependant. She began to follow the transport Grizzly referred to with her sights, watching the doors. The convoy was moving along at a fast clip, and she wondered if Grizzly would be able to detonate the explosives at the right time. But her team leader was experienced and capable much more than she was, so SASS believed that it could be done.

The convoy came closer. SASS felt her anxiety grow with the size of the dust plume.

"Standby," said Grizzly. "Just fifteen more seconds."

By now, SASS could pick out the lettering on the side of the Sangvis vehicles with her bare eyes. Its harsh, geometric logo was blazoned in a bright magenta on the side of the transports, characters glossy in the sunlight.

"Detonating," Grizzly said, and the riverbed exploded. Grizzly had planted not one, but five different explosives, meaning a much better chance of successfully disabling a vehicle moving at high speed. Indeed, the leading Sangvis armored car was thrown forward by the force of the detonation, hitting the ground and sliding forward a few feet before it started smoking. "Move!"

The four dolls on the ground below sprung into action. Ingram and RFB pulled out explosive devices and sprinted toward the armored car at the rear of the convoy, which had come to a quick halt along with the rest of the convoy. M590 and Grizzly were running towards the second armored vehicle near the center.

"Sangvis emerging!" M590 shouted, and SASS turned her scope to look. The troops crawling out of the armored cars were Ripper models, easy enough to handle. It was the heavier androids spilling through the doors of the immense transport vehicles that would be the problem. The riverbed was deep enough that its shores partially obscured the Sangvis troops, but they were not close enough to the banks of the riverbed to be safe. SASS sighted on a squad of shield units clambering over rocks into position. They had not yet set up their shields – an easy target. SASS squeezed the trigger and felt the stock press into her shoulder as the rifle cracked, and the Sangvis unit collapsed. She ordered her dummies to fire at will, following the order of targets that she had reviewed. _Shields – skirmishers – snipers._

The riverbed exploded again as RFB and Ingram detonated their explosives, and the back of the convoy went up in a ball of flame. Sangvis troops still came from the transports like termites from rotten wood, flooding into the riverbed like the water that had once run there. Grizzly and M590 had breached the doors on the armored car and entered, muzzle flashes coming from within. The troop transport was still disgorging troops, and SASS was hard pressed to stem the flow.

"Taking fire from Sangvis heavy guns!" RFB said. SASS looked to where the assault rifle was. A unit of Sangvis Striker dolls had formed up on the edge of the riverbed, pelting the line of boulders RFB and her dummies had taken cover behind with fire.

"I see it," SASS said, lining up her sights on the dummies. _Aim for the nervous system,_ NTW-20 had said. _Sangvis dolls don't have as comprehensive a physiology as we do. It's the only thing that'll put them out of action for good._ SASS did that now, setting her sights on the head. Another pull of the trigger, and the doll fell to the ground. The others ignored their compatriot's death and kept firing, so SASS was able to drop the rest of them without much incident. Sangvis had taken notice of her position, however, and the doll backed up a little to better avoid the random shots coming over her head.

"That's good," RFB said in astonishment. SASS blushed, but before she could accept the compliment, Grizzly cut in.

"SASS, we're taking fire and this truck won't mean anything if Sangvis get close enough to reclaim it. Show me what you learned."

The sniper tightened her jaw. She was glad to be needed, but Grizzly's tone was condescending. _Of course._

Sangvis Vespids had taken up position behind the tree trunk that Grizzly herself had used for cover before the attack. There were a lot of them, over fifteen, and a contingent of Ripper dolls were moving up behind them, ready to advance on the armored car Grizzly and M590 were in.

"Sangvis troops are starting to organize," RFB said before SASS could fire on the Vespids. "Mounted units on the far side of the convoy!"

_Skirmishers,_ thought SASS. Jäger units were there too, scrambling for cover. SASS knew that if they reached it in time, they would be exorbitantly more difficult to kill.

"You'll need to handle it yourself!" SASS told Grizzly as she ordered her dummies to change their aim to the Jägers. A single shot was enough to bring them down, but there were a great deal of them swarming away from the riverbed. The Dragoon skirmishers seemed to have taken note of where she was and were sprinting in her direction

"Obey my order!" Grizzly thundered. Her and M590's dummies had taken up positions surrounding the car, but they were being pelted with high volumes of fire from the Sangvis dolls.

"Just a minute!" SASS said. Already, the Sangvis skirmishers were dashing across the ground towards her. SASS pulled the trigger and heard the other four dolls do the same. Five Sangvis collapsed, but ten more still came. _Fire again_, she thought, and she did, another five Dragoons down. SASS pulled the trigger again, but only four bullets hit the enemy. She was empty. A nervous knot formed in her digimind as she dropped the empty magazine and reached for a fresh one – the Sangvis was too close.

SASS had barely gotten to her feet when the Dragoon let loose with its cannons, raking the ground in front of her fire. The Griffin doll nearly tripped as she scrambled to retreat into the forest, hoping to lose the skirmisher in the thick foliage – only for the Dragoon to crash through the treeline, branches tangled around the legs of its assault walker. SASS was frozen for a moment, watching the Sangvis doll, towering nearly eight foot on the walker, scan the area for SASS

"SASS, suppressive, now!" yelled Grizzly.

"Working on it!" SASS raised her rifle and popped off a few shots at the Sangvis, then ordered her remaining dummy links to continue supporting Grizzly. The Dragoon started towards her again, and SASS turned and ran. The untended forest was full of fallen trees and hanging vegetation that she was forced to jump over and duck under, often just before the Dragoon opened fire. The walker was having a harder time navigating the forest, but it was well capable of simply crushing obstacles underfoot in its pursuit.

SASS finally managed to yank a fresh magazine out from its pouch and shove it into the magwell. The Sangvis wasn't giving up – its gun thundered and a stream of bullets hit the tree immediately to SASS's left. She realized that, when there was no more forest to run through, there would not be a solution waiting for her. The Griffin doll looked about her – there, ahead of her, a fallen trunk leaning against a tree, dark with rot. It was sufficiently thick that the Dragoon could not crash through it, and if she was smart about it, it might even knock the Sangvis off the walker. SASS looked for a way for her to get over the trunk while still leading the Sangvis – there, a low-hanging bough. She could swing up and over the branch while the Sangvis went straight ahead.

Another spray of bullets reminded her she needed to be ready. The fallen trunk was closer, and the Dragoon was close behind her. SASS slung her rifle over her shoulder and picked up her pace, sprinting as fast as she could. Soon, soon, now! She altered her course left and leapt, hand outstretched for the hanging branch. It was there, it was there, it was in her hand, and rough bark scraped at her palms as she held on for dear life. Her momentum transferred and she swung, hard and fast, but slower than she had been running. The Dragoon passed her, and just as she saw the hip joints on its mount begin to swivel, it ran into the trunk. Propelled by inertia, the mounted Sangvis doll was thrown over the trunk, and the walker collapsed in a heap of metal. SASS felt lighter as she swung up on the branch and turned to see where the Sangvis had landed. The mottled wood of the fallen trunk met her eyes instead.

SASS fell to the ground, head afire with pain. Struggling to focus, she dimmed the pain simulators as she placed a hand to her face, feeling a broken nose, her own red coolant dripping down her face and onto to her uniform. Her rifle was digging into her back from where she had landed on it, and SASS rolled over so she could pull it out from underneath her – and then she saw the Sangvis doll, getting to its feet and stumbling towards the fallen walker, making slow progress thanks to a broken leg.

"SASS, get back here!" Grizzly said over Zener. "Where are you?!"

There was a pinch in her neck – her dummies were getting shot at. SASS told herself to focus: focus on getting up, on keeping herself alive, before she even addressed Grizzly. The Sangvis doll had reached its walker and wrested a pistol free of a compartment. The sight of gunmetal made SASS jump into action, setting her hands on the ground, getting to her feet, and steeling herself for the fight. She had to ignore the pain for now.

The Sangvis pulled the trigger, and SASS felt the bullet fly past her to lodge itself in a tree trunk. She reached behind her and swung her rifle about, chancing a hipfire so she could return fire quicker. Her shots missed too, going far wide. SASS put her rifle up to her shoulder as the Sangvis shot once, twice, thrice, the third bullet flying clean through SASS's leg. She looked through the sights, found the Sangvis, and before it could fire again, she squeezed the trigger and a neat hole appeared in the Dragoon's abdomen before her crosshairs were torn away by the recoil. Before SASS could get another aimed shot in, the Sangvis had fired, missing, and then thrown the empty pistol at SASS, charging right after. The doll raised her hands to block the projectile, and before she knew it, the Dragoon had bulled into her.

They both went to the ground, SASS's rifle torn away from her in the tumble. The Dragoon was heavy and surprisingly powerful, managing to pin SASS underneath it while its hands went for her neck. SASS pushed back, but the Dragoon knocked aside her arms and wrapped its own cold hands around her throat, squeezing. SASS could go without air, but if the Dragoon snapped the spinal cord, it would cut off the pathway for most commands from her Digimind. Her hand flew to her belt as the Sangvis pushed harder, leaning down with its beady eyes fixed on hers. SASS found what she was looking for and wrapped her hands around it, pulling the okapi free from its sheath. She could feel the pressure building in her neck. SASS reversed her grip on the knife, brought it up to her chest, and pushed forward with all her might, right between two of the Dragoon's artificial ribs. The knife blade hit something hard, purple coolant started to gush, and the Dragoon's grip suddenly loosened. That was just what SASS needed, and she wrenched the knife to the side, pushing the Sangvis off her as it grasped at her arms desperately. SASS pulled the blade out, reoriented it on the Sangvis's throat, and thrust again, the point burying itself right in the middle of the doll's spinal cord. The Dragoon seized up for a moment, then went limp.

SASS resisted the urge to fall down next to it. Her core was virtually vibrating with anxiety, and as the overdrive – adrenaline simulation – protocol wound down, she once again became aware of her broken nose and the bullet hole in her left leg. SASS sat there for a moment longer before pulling off one of the Dragoon's long black stockings, tying it around her leg as a makeshift bandage. She couldn't help but notice how dirty her hands were as she worked, stained with a mix of red and purple coolant from herself and the Sangvis.

Wound seen to, SASS got to her feet, gradually becoming aware of the conversation occurring over the Zener network.

"Jägers have us pinned," Grizzly was saying. "RFB, see if you can't keep their heads down. Ingram, throw smoke grenades on that line of boulders."

"That's quite the throw," Ingram said. "How many?"

"One or two."

"Grizzly-chan, that's a lot of Sangvis to distract," RFB complained.

"Get it done," Grizzly said before RFB could continue. "M590, let's see if we can't press those Vespids and break their line."

SASS wiped her hands somewhat clean on the Sangvis's clothes and bent down to pick her rifle up, inspecting it for damage. "Grizzly, it's SASS. Sorry for being gone, I was… well, what's the situation?"

"We've secured the Sangvis intelligence," Grizzly said. "They've organized their remaining dolls and are pushing us hard. We need sniper cover and you aren't providing it, over."

"I was stormed by skirmisher units and lost dummies to sniper fire," SASS said. "I'm getting back into position now."

"Roger." Grizzly sounded displeased, though she was courteous enough to keep it off of Zener. "Once you get back, assist in M590 and I's push toward the Sangvis to the northeast."

"Wilco." SASS pulled the knife out of the Sangvis throat with a spurt of coolant.

The run through the forest was much easier when not being chased, despite the limp from her injured leg. SASS made good time back to where she had originally been sniping, though the area had been trashed when the Sangvis trampled through it. _Dummies_, she remembered, and checked her links. Two were left, awaiting instruction. SASS ordered one to pick off Jäger units in RFB's area and slaved the other to her aim. She knelt down behind a tree and sighted on where Grizzly was.

The area had become a good deal more wrecked during her time fighting the Sangvis dragoon. Nearly all of the Sangvis vehicles had been turned to burnt metal husks during the battle, and a good deal of bodies lay across the ground. Most were Sangvis, but a few of Ingram's and M590's dummies had been shot as well. Grizzly and M590 were moving forward under the cover of the shotgun doll's body shields, pushing toward a formation of Sangvis Vespids laying down a hail of fire on the Griffin dolls. SASS took aim on the Sangvis doll closest to the front. A body in the front would trip up the others and impede their movement forward, NTW-20 had said.

With another magazine, the Sangvis formation was broken, Grizzly and M590 firing at will to finish off the Vespids. RFB and Ingram had flushed out the Jägers from hiding, gunning (or, in Ingram's case, stabbing) them down.

"Everyone, form up. SASS too," Grizzly said over Zener, holstering her pistol. SASS rose from her kneeling position and made her way out of the forest and to the other four.

"Piece of cake," Ingram said, grinning wickedly. RFB hugged her rifle to her chest.

"That was so much fun!" she cheered, smiling wide. SASS couldn't help but smile too, though Grizzly and M590 were not the same.

"Where's our ride out of here?" M590 asked, hand still on the grip.

"On its way," Grizzly said, and turned her gaze to SASS. "What happened back there? That's quite the bloody nose."

"I told you that I was charged by Sangvis skirmishers," SASS defended. Unlike humans, her voice box allowed her to speak normally despite a broken nose. "I finished as quickly as I could, given the circumstances."

"Huh," Grizzly said. "Well, better luck next time."

The team leader smiled at SASS forgivingly, and the sniper felt a bit better about herself.

"So, this intelligence," Ingram said, leering at Grizzly. "Good stuff?"

"_Why_ are you saying it like that?" Grizzly said, contorting her face in disgust.

"Well, Kerr threw us into the mission with two hours of prep time, so it seemed really urgent," Ingram said. M590 nodded in agreement.

"An awful lot of effort was expended to retrieve this information. Type 81 did say that it would be vital to the Griffin war effort in this region," the white-haired doll said.

"Well, it was worth it just for the fight," RFB said. "I killed lots of Sangvis this time around!"

"Ayy," Ingram said in casual agreement, holding out her hand for a high five. "Gimme five." RFB threw her entire body weight into the slap. "Come on, you can hit it harder."

"Don't you know it," RFB said, hitting Ingram's hand again. Ingram laughed.

"Again!"

RFB grunted as she fairly leapt at Ingram's hand, the slap piercing the air like a gunshot. The doll stumbled forward, holding her hand and grimacing in silent pain.

"That's what I'm talking about," Ingram said, fists on her hips.

"Knock it off, you two," Grizzly said. "Keep it quiet, we need to listen for the Griffin carrier."

"We don't _have_ to," Ingram said. "Hell, wouldn't it be better to stay? Then there'll be more Sangvis to kill!"

"And points to earn!" RFB said right after Ingram.

"You two are terrors," M590 chided. "Don't you know when to be quiet?"

"Hardly," Grizzly answered for them.

"Don't be so patronizing," RFB pouted. "You're barely ol–"

"Shut up," Grizzly said, and now her tone was properly serious. "Listen."

SASS heard the sound clearly enough. "That's our ride," M590 said.

"No," said Grizzly. "It's not coming from the direction of the base."

All of them turned in the direction of where the noise seemed to be coming from. It certainly wasn't Griffin, SASS could tell that much. She took her rifle in her hand at the same time Grizzly pulled her pistol free of her holster.

"Better radio the Griffin carrier," Grizzly said to M590, who nodded. "I'll get everyone ready."

M590 turned away and put a hand to her ear as Grizzly stepped forward. "SASS, back to the woods for sniper cover. Ingram, RFB. Disperse into the wreckages and stay hidden, I'll do the same. Sangvis will find us sooner or later, so we should try and catch them by surprise in the meantime."

"Turn back," M590 said, communicating with the Griffin helicopter. "There's Sangvis troops inbound, the LZ'll be too hot to land by the time you get here."

"How obliging of SF to give us another battle so soon," Ingram said.

"Now's not the time," said Grizzly. SASS could tell that she was barely restraining herself from shouting, and understood why. Ingram was more than content to be killed in the process of fighting Sangvis, but for M590 and Grizzly it was a matter of pride in survival. M590 had claimed that Grizzly wanted to set an example for SASS, but now she doubted the truth of that statement more than ever. The purple-eyed doll seemed more concerned with protecting her pride. "What're you waiting for? Move!"

SASS turned away and started running back towards the treeline as ordered. Behind her, the noise grew louder, a loud whine akin to a rush of air.

"Grizzly-chan," RFB started.

"Can it," said Grizzly. "Get into position."

"Just listen!" RFB persisted. "That's not a carrier."

"She's right," grunted M590. SASS momentarily focused on the whine as she ran. It was from an engine, no doubt, but as she listened it became all too clear that it was something else, growing louder every second.

"Maybe it's a Sangvis carrier," Grizzly said stubbornly. SASS glanced over her shoulder, but nothing Sangvis was in sight.

"No, that's not it…" M590 narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the Sangvis. "It's something–"

SASS felt the ground tremble as the riverbed was engulfed in explosion, flashes of light smothered by geysers of dirt. Moments after, the deafening rip of a rotary cannon thundered through the air, and the whine and rush of air resolved itself into the roar of a jet engine. A black-armored jet soared overheard, nearly too fast for the eye to follow as it climbed back up into the sky. SASS stumbled from the concussion wave and tremors, but kept her footing.

"Grizzly!" she shouted. "Grizzly! M590! Are you okay?!"

The radio buzzed with white noise, so SASS ran back towards the riverbed, now covered in a cloud of dust and smoke. She searched the sky for where the jet had gone, but saw nothing except for the three Sangvis carriers, setting down uncomfortably close. Then she was in the smoke and couldn't see anything that was more than five feet ahead.

"RFB, Ingram!" SASS screamed, barely managing to keep herself upright. Her ears were ringing from the blast of the jet's cannon and her eyes stung from the smoke. There was another rumble, this one lower and more steady – likely Sangvis ground transports. SASS broke into a run toward the riverbed, desperate to reach the others."Grizzly!"  
The doll swerved around a boulder, only for her next step to fall on nothing. SASS fell into the riverbed face-first, tumbling down to the rocky bottom. Her broken nose sent a dull wave of pain through her, but SASS clambered to her feet and kept moving. The dust cloud was settling in the riverbed, making it denser and harder to see through, so SASS clung to the bank as she ran, passing the hulks of empty Sangvis vehicles.

"M590?"

"Here!" shouted the doll, but SASS had to take a few more steps before the doll became visible in the smoke. She was supporting herself on the bank, working at an immense piece of shrapnel stuck into her leg. SASS ran to her side.

"Have you seen the others?"

"No," coughed M590. "Bit busy with this chunk of metal."

"Sorry," said SASS, suddenly awkward..

"I haven't seen any sign of them. Maybe dead." M590 frowned. "Sangvis is trying to destroy the intel if they can't take it back. And where the hell did they get a _plane_?"

"We can't let that happen." _I don't want to die again._

"Easier said than done."

"You can say that again," Grizzly said. SASS whipped her gaze backwards to see Grizzly leaning against the busted front of one of the Sangvis transports, clutching her side. "You going to be out of it?" she asked M590.

"I can walk," said the other doll, grinning inexplicably. SASS saw her and Grizzly's shared look for a moment. "What's our plan? Where're the other two?"

"They're watching for Sangvis. We need to get out of here." Grizzly held up a data storage unit. "Any Sangvis intel is flagged high priority."

"Going on foot is too slow. Got another option?"

"I passed that armored car on my way here," SASS put in. "It's still functional. We can drive it back to friendly territory."

"Is Griffin sending a carrier?" M590 asked. Grizzly shrugged.

"Radio was busted from the concussion, so I can't make contact. They've got to have noticed the Sangvis attack."

"Or they're too spooked to waste a carrier on us."

"They better not be," said Grizzly, growing angry. "We've got to get this intel back to Kerr."

"Agreed. Who can drive?"

Grizzly grinned. "Me. Get in the truck, I'll go tell RFB and Ingram to get back here.

The armored car was clearly Sangvis modified, but originally meant for humans. SASS pulled the back doors open before she returned to M590, grabbing the doll by the armpits and pulling her over to the vehicle.

"A little gentler," M590 grimaced.

"Sorry," said SASS, keeping her fast pace. It was a chore to get M590 up into the back of the truck – her armor made her the heaviest doll SASS had ever known – but she did it, trailing coolant from the injured leg all the way. SASS climbed in after her. The inside of the Sangvis car was completely empty save for a single strongbox, its door open and empty, and two Sangvis corpses. SASS pushed them out the back to make room for when RFB and Ingram joined them. She then returned to continue moving M590 to the front of the car.

"SASS," M590 said.

"Yes?"

"You're shotgun on this one. I'll watch the back with the other two."

SASS stopped pulling M590. "Shouldn't you be up with Grizzly?"

"No, I should stay back here with Laurel and Retardy. Just handle it for this mission, okay?"

"Aye aye," SASS said, and let M590 lay. She got into the cab and took a seat just as Grizzly pulled the door open on her side and climbed into the driver's seat. Sangvis had stripped the furnishing, so everything was metal and quite uncomfortable. SASS sat up and placed the edge of her rifle on the dash, ready to shoot through the windshield if she had to.

"M590 in?" she asked. SASS nodded. She could hear RFB and Ingram getting into the back, and the doors slammed shut moments after.

"What about our dummies?" she asked.

"You're the only one with any left," Grizzly said. "That Sangvis gun run destroyed us." The doll reached under the steering wheel and ripped off a service plate, fiddling about with wires inside the console.

"What're you doing?"

"Hotwiring," Grizzly explained. "Sangvis vehicles don't have protection against it because no one ever tries it."

The engine started up, and Grizzly placed both her hands on the steering wheel. SASS reached behind her for a seatbelt, finding none.

"Everyone ready?" Grizzly asked.

"Punch it," M590 said from the back. Grizzly reached down to shift it into drive, and SASS noticed that she was smiling wide for the first time in a while.

"All right. Everyone, hold on, and keep an eye out for that Sangvis jet."

Before SASS knew it, the car was moving. Grizzly had stepped on the accelerator as hard as she could, and the car shot forward. The seats were without cushions, hard to the body, and SASS felt each and every edge dig into her skin as Grizzly drove forward. The cloud of dust from the airstrike had faded to the point that she could see the burnt wreckage of the first armored car directly ahead.

"Grizzly," SASS said, starting to panic as they drew closer.

"I've got it!"

Grizzly aimed the nose of the car to the edge of the blockage ahead. With a crash and screech of metal-on-metal, she rammed into the car and shoved it aside, continuing to rocket down the riverbed and leaving the battlefield behind.

"Sangvis mounted behind!" RFB reported. SASS looked back to see the doll peering out one of the small rear windows

"We can outrun infantry," Grizzly said. "We're safe, so long as that jet doesn't come back."

"How far will this riverbed take us?" SASS asked. "It doesn't run straight up to the gatehouse."

"We'll have to find a spot to get out," Grizzly said. SASS turned to scanning the terrain ahead for a bank low enough to drive over. Everything was passing by in brown-green blur, difficult to track.

The car bounced as it rolled over a boulder, and SASS looked over to Grizzly. The doll was intently focused on the road, frowning or grinning with each jostle as she adjusted the steering wheel. SASS had never seen her drive, even though Grizzly talked about it whenever she could. She always spoke of it with a big grin, but she seemed more serious than ever now, utterly focused on driving.

"They're going overhead," M590 updated, and SASS soon saw a Sangvis carrier through the windshield as it sped ahead of the car, quickly putting distance between them.

"They're gonna set up an ambush," Grizzly said tersely as she quickly spun the wheel to turn a bend in the riverbed.

"If we don't get out of this riverbed, we'll probably run right into it!" SASS gasped. There would be no way out of that ambush, with Sangvis on both sides and the banks impossible to drive over.

"SASS, the car still has a radio unit in it. See if you can contact Griffin."

SASS fumbled for the handset on the console, nearly missing when the car shook as Grizzly drove over a pit in the ground. She keyed in the Griffin frequency – they would have to risk an open channel – and began speaking.

"Throne, this is Thistle Team. We are being pursued and potentially ambushed by Sangvis elements in the Cheremosh riverbed. Currently moving in a southerly direction in a commandeered Sangvis vehicle. SF close-air elements are in the region and have already engaged once. Requesting assistance, over."

_Throne_ was the callsign used by the command center. It was also technically Commander Kerr's callsign, though the commander rarely found a use for the radio.

"Grizzly, this is Throne," the radio replied after a few seconds. The quality was low and it was hard to hear over the rumble of the car engine and the rattle of driving over rough terrain, but SASS could still sort out the words clearly enough. "We are working on tracking your position and locating a suitable place for pickup. We are unable to sortie craft for air support at this time–"

The car lurched forward and SASS's hearing went again as another explosion came from behind them, pelting the back of the car with shrapnel and sending more straight past them.

"Mortars!" M590 shouted from the back. Grizzly swore and sped up, if that was possible, moving at an even more breakneck pace.

"– direction, over," Griffin control finished, nearly unintelligible over the noise.

"Uh, say again all after 'air support', over," SASS said into the radio.

"I say again, we are unable to sortie craft for air support at this time. Gerbera Team is on station to assist, however, five kilometers east-northeast. If you make your way to that area they will be able to provide supporting fire in your direction."

"Roger. Thistle out." SASS set the radio back on its hook.

"What'd they say?" Grizzly asked.

"They've got a support team five klicks from here, so if we can get out of the bed and head in that direction we're good to go."

Grizzly raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll see what I can do."

SASS summoned a mental map of the region in her head. They were far off from their new destination, though in the car the travel time would be significantly shorter. What they needed to do was find a good route out of the riverbed.

"Another mortar launch," M590 said. "Coming in any second!"

The ground trembled as Sangvis shells fell down around them. Thankfully, their speed made the enemy mortar units far more inaccurate, but great clods of dirt and stone were still being thrown at the car from nearby impacts. A shell was bound to hit too close sooner or later.

"SASS, how close are we to where the Sangvis carries landed?"

"Too close," SASS said, calling the memory to mind. As they spoke, the Sangvis transport lifted back into the air and immediately began climbing. "We'll be coming up on it in the next five minutes, if not less."

"I'm getting out of the riverbed now," said Grizzly, and SASS looked ahead to see a dip in the riverbank, low enough for the car to drive over. "Everyone, hold on!"

SASS turned to look through to the back. There was nothing to hold onto, so Ingram and RFB were bracing themselves against the walls and each other as they helped M590 hold herself still. She turned back around, and the riverbank rushed towards the windshield. With a jolt and shaking of her vision, the car made it over the bank, nearly coming to a stop before starting to pick up speed again.

"Suck it," Grizzly said under her breath as the car continued to roll forward, regaining speed lost from the sudden jump. "Any Sangvis?"

"Looks clear," M590 said. "We probably just dodged the ambush."

"We'll make it to the support squad," Grizzly said, and SASS could tell that she had loosened up a bit once the immediate threat of ambush was gone.

"Grizzly," M590 said. "That Sangvis carrier is still circling. It's pretty high up."

That seemed to make Grizzly uneasy. "Keep an eye on it. Maybe–"

A line of fire was stitched in front of the car, and the engine exploded as 30mm shells shot through the hood and into the engine block. Grizzly swore as smoke billowed out from beneath the canopy, numerous holes perforating the hood. She braked and turned the wheel, robbing the car of as much momentum as she could. "Everyone out!" she shouted, and SASS pushed open the door and leapt out.

From the outside, the situation looked as bad as she had supposed it would. The Sangvis jet was receding into the distance, a trench's worth of dirt and stone thrown up by the gun run. It appeared that the gun had hit the car at an angle, such that it only hit the engine and not the crew compartment, thankfully for the other three.

"Can you walk?" Grizzly asked M590 as soon as they were all gathered, and she immediately went for the doll, putting a hand on her shoulder and supporting her as she limped.

"I'll manage," M590 said. "How much farther to the support squad?"

"Only half a klick," SASS said quickly. "We can make it. I'll radio Griffin–"

"Don't waste the time," Grizzly said. "They're probably tracking us via a drone by now, no need to inform them." The doll was still helping M590 as she spoke.

"We need to move if we want to get there before the Sangvis jet gets back," Ingram said. "Sangvis will be hot on our location by now, what with the smoke from the engine."

"Glad to have you with us, Captain Obvious," Grizzly muttered. "Ingram, you're helping M590 move. SASS, RFB, with me. Let's go."

The wrecked car was soon behind them as they made their way in the direction Throne had told them to go. It was much slower than driving, but it was moving nonetheless. The Sangvis jet had disappeared again, though the carriers had descended again and were just now picking up off the ground. RFB said that they were likely picking up the Sangvis elements that had been preparing to ambush them, though nobody had bothered to make conversation out of it.

They were nearly to support squad Pavel when the treeline to their left exploded in a flurry of splintery wood and pine needles as another round of mortar shells impacted.

"It'll be us next," RFB said gloomily. "Sangvis knows our position. They just need to improve their aim."

"Shut up," Grizzly said, voice terse. "Pick up the pace. We're nearly there!"

SASS looked back to Ingram and M590. The former looked freakily anxious, body twitching at every breeze. Ingram clearly sensed another fight nearing, and SASS suspected that she would drop M590 the instant it came. For her part, the shotgun doll was getting along just fine, despite the coolant oozing out around the shrapnel wound in her leg.

"Movement!" RFB said, and the doll threw her rifle up to her shoulder an instant before a hail of fire flew out from the forest to their right.

"Yes!" Ingram cried.

"They shelled the other forest to trick us," Grizzly growled. The doll brought her pistol to bear and fired off several rounds into the incoming fire before running to M590. Sangvis fire whipped past SASS's head as she took position next to RFB, returning fire.

"There's no cover," she heard M590 say.

"Ingram, use your last smoke grenade on your treeline," said Grizzly. "M590, let's go. I'll carry you. SASS, RFB! Keep me covered while I move M590."

"Aye aye," SASS said, and she and RFB started moving towards the other two. Ingram chucked her smoke grenade, and the forest edge that Sangvis was using for cover was quickly covered in a cloud of smoke, the fire from the enemy lessening.

Grizzly and M590 had put an arm around each other, making good time despite the injury.

"Sangvis coming through the smoke!" RFB said. SF androids had begun appearing like ghosts from within the cloud , weapons raised. It was easy enough to nail the first of them, isolated as they were, but soon more and more began coming out in pairs and trios. Ingram laughed then, and SASS suddenly felt much less confident in their chances.

"SUCKERS!" cackled the doll as she squeezed off bursts from her weapon. SASS was shocked at how adept the doll was at dodging enemy fire, and in spite of the existing scars on her skin Ingram went untouched.

"More!" RFB pointed towards the far end of the smoke, where an organized formation of Vespids had emerged. Ingram bolted at the sight of them, running into the Sangvis fire, to Grizzly's chagrin.

"GET BACK HERE!" she shouted, voice becoming hoarse. "INGRAM!"

"She can disrupt their formation," M590 said. "Keep going. She'll link back up."

"There's the point that Pavel is stationed at." SASS pointed to a short, rocky hill ahead, its base ringed by trees. It looked like an old, man-made fortification, a heap of rocks shored up to form a rocky, near-vertical slope on one side and a gentle slope on the other. SASS could not see anyone on the top, but dearly hoped they were there regardless. She could not imagine anywhere else support squad Pavel could be.

"EAT LEAD!" Ingram screeched from amidst the Sangvis troops. They had stopped advancing towards the other four and turned their weapons inward, trying to fire at the diminutive doll darting about. SASS rarely _saw_ Ingram fight, so it was a shock to see how quickly she did it, using Sangvis dolls for cover as she fired off salvos at the slow-to-react androids.

"She'll burn herself out eventually," Grizzly insisted, but SASS doubted the statement. If it happened, it wouldn't be soon; if there was anything Ingram didn't lack, it was energy in combat.

"More Sangvis coming out of the treeline," RFB said, starting to fire her rifle again. This time, it was mounted units, skirting around Ingram's engagement and making a beeline for M590 and her escort. "Grizzly-chan, we can't take those by ourselves!"

"I know," said Grizzly. She continued helping M590 towards the rocky hill while raising her pistol. "Let's just hope that Griffin echelon is there." She pulled the trigger and sent a shot that ricocheted off one of the rocks at the top of the hill.

"They're gaining," RFB said. SASS glanced back to see that the skirmishers were drawing closer with alarming speed, and her hand dropped down to the sheathed knife.

"Hey, who the hell's shooting at us?!" cried a voice from the hilltop. "Damn newbie echelons, trying for some target practice out on patrol. Name yourselves!" A blonde head peeked out over the rocks, peering down at the four below. "Grizzly!"

"Get off your ass and on your gun!" Grizzly bellowed. "We're going to DIE!"

"Oh! Sangvis!" said the blonde girl. "Aye aye!"

SASS glanced back to see a large gun on a tripod – she identified it as an M2 – hefted onto a rock, and the blonde girl climbed up behind it. Her clones soon did the same, and another doll with a similar weapon did the same.

"Fire at will!" shouted the doll. The blonde girl's M2 thundered as it spat out rounds, immense cracking sounds splitting the air between her and the Sangvis. SASS placed her hands over her ears as she watched the Sangvis formation cut down in a hail of bullets. When the next wave of Sangvis emerged from the forest, they had no time to form up before the machine gun fire put an end to their lives.

"That's enough!" shouted a voice from the hilltop. "Quit it!"

The barrage stopped, leaving a field of Sangvis corpses, and SASS's ears ringing. A cheer went up from the top of the hill, and SASS looked back to see the two machine gun dolls pumping their fists in the air. Another doll had joined them, a rather large black top hat perched on her head. She had her hands on her hips as she looked to M2 and the other doll. SASS recognized the latter as M1919A4, but the top-hatted doll she could not place.

"You good down there?" she asked.

"We're fine," Grizzly yelled back

"Movement from the corpses!" M1919A4 shouted, lifting the barrel of her gun back up. SASS twisted around to see the Sangvis carrion shifting aside.

"It's one of ours," Grizzly said, and Ingram popped up from underneath the Sangvis, soaked in purple coolant.

"SUCK IT!" she yelled, raising both fists with a knife in her hand.

"Christ," Grizzly muttered under her breath. "Get over here!"

As Ingram made for the group, SASS saw a doll emerge from the forest. "Grizzly," she said. Grizzly turned around to look, but it was M590 who spoke.

"M500," she said, and the doll smiled cheerily.

"That's me! Spitfire said I should guide you up to our position in case of another Sangvis attack."

"That would be prudent," said Grizzly. M500 nodded, and SASS noticed the dog ears on top of her for the first time as they twitched.

"Just follow me through the forest, then."

On the top of the hill were all the dolls of Gerbera Team. M1919A4 and M2 stood on the edges, watching for more Sangvis, but two more sat and stood around the supply crates piled together. The black-hatted doll was one of them, but another blue-uniformed doll stood attending her.

"Grizzly," the black-hatted one acknowledged as they approached, rising from her seat on an ammunition crate. Grizzly grunted an unintelligible response as she helped M590 to the pile and sat her down.

"Spitfire," she said, holding her hand out to black-hat. They shook and then separated, Spitfire's hands going back to her hips.

"So, where's that car Throne mentioned?"

"Ditched it when Sangvis close air nailed the engine," Grizzly said, crossing her arms. "What're we still doing here? Now that you've engaged, Sangvis probably has this position figured out."

"Command said that they sortied drones to drive off Sangvis air elements, and we can deal with land attacks from where we are now. Though I don't think Sangvis is likely to try another assault anytime soon."

"We'll see," Grizzly said. "What's the deal with exfil?"

"They've sent carriers, they'll be here soon."

"Spitfire!" M2 shouted from her position on the edge of the hill. "How much longer? I want to get back to base!"

"Just a few minutes," Spitfire said, but that apparently wasn't enough. M2 left her dummies behind and climbed down off her rock, joined by M1919A4. Both approached Spitfire and the others.

"We've been here for _hours_," M1919A4 complained.

"You literally just shot at Sangvis," Spitfire replied. "Can't you sit still for just a minute?"

"It's been more than a minute."

Grizzly caught SASS's eye and grinned, eyes flickering over to RFB and Ingram. "They might get along," she murmured to SASS. For their part, RFB was busy being chased by Ingram, who was intent on "sharing the glory" with the assault rifle by smearing Sangvis coolant on her. Ingram was fairly dripping with the stuff, having evidently performed a great deal of work with her knife.

"Just _hold on_," Spitfire insisted. M1919A4 rolled her eyes and brushed past her to stand in front of SASS. She was short, shorter than SASS, though she made up for it with her energy.

"SASS!" she said. "I've heard about you from Thompson!"

"Oh?" SASS replied, dragged out of her own thoughts by the diminutive gunner. M1919A4 nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, all she said was that you were good at killing Sangvis. I think she was a bit mad at M9 and wanted to show her up, actually."

"Good to know," SASS said, exasperated. M9 seemed to be the thorn in Thompson's side, always slowing her down with her incessant complaining. _And she always uses us to make her feel bad._

"Kind of messy though, huh?"

"Hm?" SASS looked at the other doll in askance before turning her gaze downwards. Her clothes were stained in Sangvis coolant, and the bandage around her injured leg had become soaked in her own "blood". Forest debris clung to the sticky substance, as well fine grey dust from the riverbed. She tasted coolant in her mouth and reached up to her nose.

"You know, I wish I could do that sort of stuff that you did with the convoy. It sounds so much more action-packed." M1919A4 was saying, setting her tiny fists on her hips. SASS felt her nose start to throb as the adrenaline – well, core overdrive protocol – wore off. The car ride was full of action, that was for sure, but M19191A4 seemed to lack a sense of fear.

Grizzly tapped SASS on the shoulder. "There's our ride. Let's get ready to go."

There wasn't much to get ready. SASS slung her rifle over her shoulder and watched as the carrier set down at the bottom of the hill. Grizzly helped M590 back to her feet, and Spitfire started collecting her charges, urging them down the hill. For all her energy when shooting, M2 was a slow mover, though the rest were quick enough.

"Want us to take some?" Grizzly asked.

"We can all fit in the other chopper," Spitfire said. "We've got enough room for the dummies. And I'm sure you want space for your friend."

"That I do." Grizzly wasted no time in taking Spitfire up on her offer. SASS waited until she had passed by M590 before turning around to follow the others, bringing up the rear.

"SASS!" she heard M1919A4 shout from behind her. The short doll was taking the lead as Spitfire's team progressed down the hill. "Since we saved you from those Sangvis, you should come see my show!"

"Your show?" SASS asked. M1919A4 grinned smugly.

"Yup! M2 and I play in a band. Well, Spitfire sings sometimes, but she doesn't like to talk about it."

"I heard that!" Spitfire yelled from the hilltop, and she looked about ready to huck the ammunition crate in her hands down on top of M1919A4. The doll continued speaking to SASS without pause.

"I play drums, and M2 plays the clarinet sometimes. We're not playing until next week, but you should totally come."

SASS raised an eyebrow. T-doll bands were not unheard of, to be sure, but it was a surprise that Kerr had approved anything of the sort. _Though maybe she didn't._ "I'd be happy to come, if I have the time."

M1919A4 scoffed at that. "Right? Kerr's been heaping so much work on us we may need to cancel the show. Well, BAR-san says she can handle it, so I guess I can't let her show me up."

BAR? SASS wondered what M1918 was doing in a band, given her age. Perhaps M1919A4 was talking about something else.

"SASS, let's go!" Grizzly shouted from the bottom of the hill, barely intelligible over the helicopter engine. SASS waved to M1919A4 before hurrying down the hill and joining the others in the helicopter. "What was that about?"

"Asking me to see her performance," SASS said as the helicopter began to pick up off the ground. Grizzly made an expression of ponderousness at that.

"Well, I dunno what she performs in. Hopefully it's good, for your sake. I heard about this band from another sector that made awful music."

"You just think that because it was modern stuff," M590 laughed from her seat, leg stretched over the one next to her. Grizzly folded her arms across her chest.

"It's fair criticism. And AEK-999 was in it, I just can't stand her attitude."

M590 laughed out loud. SASS looked out the window to her left to see Spitfire and her team boarding the second carrier, and the winding path of the dried-up riverbed far below.


	10. StG44 Chapter 3

"Repeat after me: 'Would that it were so simple.'"

"'Would that it t'were so simple.'"

Lee-Enfield made a noise of disapproval. "No, you're saying it wrong. 'Would that it were so simple.'"

"Would that it t'were so simple," SAA drawled. Enfield sighed.

"It's hopeless." She looked to the doll seated next to her, one F2000. The blonde doll shrugged and said something in French, so Enfield looked to StG44 instead.

"I'm afraid I can't help you," she said. StG44 had grown used to those around her forgetting mention of her accent – nearly everyone on Hunter Squadron save Tokarev had their own accent, and since they rarely talked outside of missions, StG44 had never gotten much attention from her German elocution. Now, though, Lee-Enfield's perfect pronunciation and enunciation of every word made her feel terribly embarrassed by it. _I'm better than this._

Luckily, SAA had drawn the British rifle's attention away from StG. The little doll's American drawl was more than enough to prompt Enfield to do her best to fix it, though she had apparently given up after the latest exercise. SAA sat checking the chambers on her pistol while Enfield stared straight forward, ever prim and proper. Even StG44, who appreciated good posture more than most, could hardly find it in her to match Enfield.

Worse than both of them was MG42. The doll was carefree to the core, slouching in her seat with her gun lazily thrown across her lap. StG suspected that Enfield had maneuvered herself to be seated with F2000 while StG was saddled with the other two, easily the worst of the rag-tag echelon they were in. It had been formed out of necessity: when StG had arrived at the combat simulations, it was nearly empty, the only other four present being the ones she was with now. None of them were particularly willing to be together, but it was better than going solo.

StG turned to look at the MG42 now. She was looking out the window of the car, enraptured by the view. It's only a simulation. The other doll was younger, however, so StG allowed for it. She would be out of MG42's presence soon enough anyway.

It was cramped in the car. StG was pressed hard between SASS and MG42, and given both of their poor postures it was a struggle for her to keep any space to herself. SAA at least had the independence to sit somewhat upright, whereas MG42 was dangerously close to leaning on StG. The latter was about to push MG42 away when she heard the doll speaking.

"Freunde heut' wird's eine lange Nacht," MG42 muttered. StG frowned. Weil wir alte Kameraden sind was the next line, she knew, but where had MG42 learned it? She was far too immature to have any grasp of what they meant, that much was for sure.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" she hissed to the younger doll, leaning over her head. MG42 sprang upright and StG's jaw clacked shut, leaving a sore sensation in her mouth.

"Of course I do!" MG42 proclaimed, much too loudly. "MG34 taught it to me, and I remember everything she says!"

"Did she translate it?" StG replied with thinly concealed contempt, massaging her hurt jawline. MG34 was much too kind to her younger sister, she thought. MG42 shook her head.

"No, I don't think so."

StG sighed. "Old comrades on the march through the country, holding a friendship faithful and true," she sniffed. "And I am certainly not an old comrade."

"That's mean," MG42 complained. "If you had acted like that before we ran the simulation, I would've left you with the others."

"I'm terribly scared," StG mocked. MG42's complaints meant nothing to her, nor her threats – in fact, the only thing she did care about the small doll was her performance in combat, which was quite lackluster. StG hoped she would have better luck with training partners next time.

They were riding back to the command post – or, what was supposed to be a command post. Given that the entire thing was a simulation, the command post was only a location they had to be in in order to leave the virtual reality. Normally, all five of them could simply leave the instant they finished training, but Kerr had implemented an "operation-level" training program that meant everyone had to run through battles as it were the real thing. That meant getting rides back to command posts and to and fro objectives. StG saw the merit in such an idea – it was vital that younger dolls, such as MG42, learned to overcome the impatience and anxiety of long waits between battles – but she herself was bored mindless from the entire thing. She never took part in the sort of operations the other four did anyway. Hunter Squadron was virtually only deployed to take out Ringleaders or hard-to-crack Sangvis targets, always with unconventional methods.

Perhaps the worst part of the entire team simulation was the music. Before StG had ever come to S17, some doll had hacked the combat simulations to allow them to play music while fighting. Such things were strictly banned on the battlefield, of course, but Kerr had little to no jurisdiction in the digital simulation the dolls all practiced in. Virtually every doll abused the music hack by simply wishing a tune into existence with their digimind. Right now, it was playing an old British song requested by Lee-Enfield. StG could see the doll's lips moving, and every once in a while a word would be spoken loud enough to hear.

_It's a long way to Tipperary,_

_It's a long way to go._

_It's a long way to Tipperary,_

_To the sweetest girl I know!_

So much singing, StG thought, but she said nothing. SAA seemed to think the same, but in a different sense. "Enfield, why do we have to listen to all these old marching songs?" she whined, stretching her hands out to her booted toes. "Can't we play anything better?"

"Like what?" Lee-Enfield asked, inclining her head towards SAA. If she had ever felt any animosity towards SAA for her accent, it was not to be found now.

"Big Iron!" SAA said with the enthusiasm of someone who was used to getting what they wanted. Enfield's look of vague amiability turned into a frown of befuddlement.

"I beg your pardon?"

"To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day," SAA began singing, though it was more a shout than anything else. F2000, who had been napping, snapped her eyes open and stared at SAA, though the smaller doll failed to notice.

"Th-that's enough," Lee-Enfield said. "I can't say I've ever heard that."

"That's because you only listen to boring marching music," SAA said haughtily. StG snorted, but said nothing. You have no culture, little doll. She suspected that the older British doll thought so as well.

"It seems that you just can't appreciate it," Enfield sniffed. "I would've thought Garand might've taught you a little about that sort of stuff."

StG bristled at the mention of the doll, but said nothing.

"As if I'd listen to anything that girl has to say," SAA said. "The way she talks, it's like she won the war herself."

"That's simply untrue," Enfield retorted, completely distracted by mention of the war. StG turned away from the conversation, sensing that she might be involved sooner or later, only to remember that MG42 was still seated next to her. This really was an unfortunate arrangement. At least it would be done soon. They would arrive back at the command post in only a few minutes.

The car jerked to a sudden halt. F2000 started back to wakefulness, and SAA sprung for the door handle, exiting the car and immediately vanishing. Next went Lee-Enfield out her side, then MG42, then F2000. StG stepped out and felt her stomach swoop. Her vision cut out to black, and the next moment she opened her eyes she was in the simulation pod. It cracked open and light was allowed in, briefly blinding StG44 before her eyes adjusted. When the pod was fully open, SAA and Enfield were already standing outside of their pods, and MG42 and F2000 were clambering out.

"Five hours, forty seven minutes," Enfield said. "Pretty good time, everyone."

The pod bay was enormous, filled with dozens of simulation chambers just like the one StG had just left. Thick cables trunked up to the ceiling and ran through the wall to the main simulation computer. The hall was chilly, but StG made no reaction to the temperature, whereas MG42 and SAA clutched at their clothes. StG looked to the immense television on the far wall. Kerr had approved the addition of a timing leaderboard to encourage competition and improvement amongst echelons. It only counted for registered, official echelons, however, so StG would have to run it with Hunter Squadron for their time to actually be recorded. As it were, their impromptu group had placed well below the four hour, thirty five minute time of tenth place: Chrysanthemum Team. StG44 put it down to their poor unit cohesion. She and Lee-Enfield had done most of the heavy lifting – StG room clearing and Lee-Enfield sniping, with F2000 backing them up while SAA and MG42 trailed behind, occasionally spotting or offering fire support.

MG42 had returned to StG44's side like a puppy. She had failed to notice until she started walking over to Enfield and noticed MG42 strutting alongside her.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked the smaller doll, noticing her goose stepping. It was not the first time someone had made fun of her rather rigid walk and behavior, though it irked her for MG42 to be doing it.

"No," MG42 replied innocently. "I mean, I just assumed it was how I should do it."

"Well, don't." StG44 thought back to how FAMAS had chastised her own manner for the first month she had been in Hunter Squadron, and even from time to time now.

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

MG42 pouted, but relaxed her step. StG44 let out a mental sigh of relief as they approached Lee-Enfield.

"That wasn't half-bad," the British rifle was saying. "For a group like us, anyway."

She had adopted a relaxed parade stance with her rifle. StG envied it. It wasn't that she couldn't do it herself, but it was how Enfield could pull it off with such casual class. No one ever made fun of her for being proper, but it was too often that StG found herself the butt of a joke concerning a T-doll, dress blues, and Commander Kerr.

"I agree," said F2000. Her French accent was strong, but masked behind slow, deliberate speech that allowed the blonde doll to avoid the many pitfalls. "I think we all performed well. What matters is the experience."

True enough. StG knew that there could easily be a time where she was forced into a squad like this one – a squad she couldn't get along with. Kerr had transferred into Hunter easily enough, so there was no telling if she had a dysfunctional echelon set up just for StG. The doll shivered at the thought.

"I suppose that this is where we part ways," StG spoke up, picking up the edges of her mouth in an attempt at a smile.

"So it is," mused Lee-Enfield. Not good enough, StG thought. She had looked at her smile in the mirror, so she knew that it did nothing more than pick her typical frown up into a rail-straight, tight-lipped grimace, but Enfield could at least notice the effort. "The time's 0457, everyone."

StG had been in the simulations with the other four for over five hours. It had been a grueling simulation, that was for sure, made worse by her need to carry MG42's performance the entire time. She was filled with a mix of anger at the incompetence of half her team, but also pleasure at being the one that the responsibility fell upon. F2000 had even been there for her to show up – she was as good a cousin to FAMAS, and that was enough for StG. F2000 was much more pleasant, however, so StG couldn't help but feel a little guilty for using the Belgian doll as a vessel to prove herself against. It wasn't FAMAS anyway, so StG didn't feel fulfilled just yet.  
"Nonsense!" SAA said loudly. "We should all go to the café together!"

"It's five in the morning," F2000 protested. "Too early."

"We could just get snacks," SAA said. "Or tea, Enfield!"

To her credit, Enfield kept a straight face, despite SAA's hyperactive leaping about. "I have an echelon to manage," she said. "And you have one to participate in as well. We all do, so I suggest we all go about our day, maybe even catch some extra sleep. Combat simulations are one excuse to skip daily duties, socializing at the bar another one entirely."

"Fine!"

"Glad we could come to an agreement." Enfield watched as SAA made for the exit, followed by F2000 shortly after. Enfield looked over to MG42 and StG44.

"Where're you two heading?"

"I've got cooking duty," said MG42. StG44 raised an eyebrow at that. MG42 looked like she was capable of messing up even boiled potatoes. Enfield lifted her gun up and set it on her shoulder.

"Speaking of cooking, you should all get something to eat."

"Yeah!" MG42 beamed, crossing her arms with a haughty expression.. "I'll cook for you, StG44! I bake a mean loaf."

Why are you offering to bake for me? StG wondered, but she felt hungry nevertheless. She made no reply, however, opting to speak to Enfield. "Herr, I believe I'll stay behind and review the combat logs. Always something to be gained."

Enfield regarded StG for a split second before nodding. "That's in order. MG42, you ought to report to the caféteria."

With that, both of them left the room. StG took a breath. She could feel the chilled air of the pod bay in her lungs – or, whatever passed for lungs. StG wondered for a moment if the sensation was just a simulated feeling to make her feel as if she had nerve endings there. They weren't real nerves, anyway, just sensors that acted like them.

StG disliked pondering her nature as a doll, so she refocused on the matter at hand: combat records. In reality, reviewing the logs was not a long or involved process, and it would not take much time – just enough to separate her from the other four. StG sat down by the computer station and reached under the desk for the connection cable. The system was analog enough to need it, rather than some sort of cloud method. StG supposed it was for security, though she didn't quite see the point of it.

Once she had the cable in her hand, she reached up to her chest and unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it open. On her chest would be… yes, there. StG held it open and raised her hand with the cable, carefully inserting it. A sharp push and the connection was made, a flood of data suddenly clamoring for her attention. StG ordered the system to give her the latest data from the simulation with Enfield and the others. It would take all of five minutes for the hours of data to be copied and transferred.

"So you're the reason there's server activity this early?"

StG nearly broke her neck twisting her head around. Her hand dropped to the gun at her side, but she could do no more than hold it there – anti-human protocols were something she lacked.

"Hey! I'm not an enemy," said the man, interpreting her movements accurately. StG's eyes were wide as saucers, and she kept a hand on her chest, ready to pull the cable out and bolt.

"I've never seen you before."

"I'm the IOP representative here," he said. StG's gaze flickered down to his ID. Mikael Schuhart. The name was unfamiliar to her, but she knew so few humans as it were. The chip in the badge was valid, however, and that was enough for her.

"Please pardon my reaction, sir," StG44 said quietly, and made to stand up. Schuhart held his hands out, a faint smile creasing his face.

"You can stay seated. Your reaction is understandable."

StG was still on edge, but she did her best not to show it, untensing as much of her body as she could manage. The man looked around the room, likely in an attempt to be disarming. StG kept her hand on the cable. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I just decided to check up on the sim pod bay. And I guess I needed… a break," the man said, returning his gaze to hers. "Like I said, I wasn't quite sure who was up so late performing sims. I saw the others leave."

StG was silent. Two minutes until the log transfer was complete. The man wore woodland camouflage BDUs, quite unlike the typical Griffin service uniform. StG had never much liked its thick, red overcoat, though she had only seen it in person twice. Kerr wore it well, at least, as did Helian, though the latter had been over hologram. She had seen it over a camera feed when Kryuger spoke to the entire sector last month, but it was not enough to judge how it fit him. She suspected that Schuhart would not look too good in it either.

He crouched down by one of the pods, checking the cable connection. One minute, thirty seconds left on the data transfer. StG watched Schuhart straighten up and look back at her.

"That's an StG44, right?" he asked. Of course it is, StG thought, but she couldn't help but follow his gaze and stare at her rifle like an idiot. It was a simple thing to look at, though StG knew the intricacies of its internals like the back of her hand. "You're not very talkative, huh?"

Just over a minute left on the transfer. StG turned her gaze up to Schuhart. "No, sir."

What kind of response was that? StG wasn't used to conversing with a human, or a doll, for that matter. Very few wished to start conversations with her, and those that did typically did it in the interest of a mission or in pursuit of something they wanted. Schuhart seemed to have no such objective. StG wondered if he did and she just couldn't tell. She would have to be extra vigilant in what she said.

"Well, that's fine," said Schuhart. He looked around for a seat, but found none; StG had taken the only one. She suddenly felt the urge to stand up again, to offer him her seat, but before she could do so he had veered away from the console, still talking. "Everyone seems a bit scared of me at first."

You're a human, of course they are, StG thought, but still she said nothing. Forty-five seconds remained on the transfer. She had met so few humans in her life that she had only the vaguest idea of how to interact with one without appearing awkward. More elite T-dolls received training in such fields, but StG was inexperienced enough that she had gotten no such education.

Why was she thinking so much about who she was? StG did her best to push the matter to the back of her mind and watched Schuhart. He had opened one of the simulation pods at the far end of the room and was tinkering with the internals. StG supposed that it had simply fallen into disrepair, though found that hard to believe. Griffin ensured that its technology was, if not advanced, at least reliable and lasting for many years. Perhaps a doll had broken something while training. It was a remote pod bay, though – so few dolls trained at any one time that StG found it unlikely that it had been used recently.

The transfer was done. StG yanked the cable out of her chest and hung it back under the console before she buttoned up her shirt. In a moment, her weapon was slung over her shoulder and she was marching for the exit as fast as she could. Schuhart said nothing, so she looked back and saw him standing up and staring back at her. StG snapped her gaze forward just as he started raising his hand and stepped out into the hallway.

It was early morning – early enough that one would still consider it nighttime. The hallways were quite empty, so StG saw virtually no other doll as she started walking. She would stop by the mess hall first, she thought, until StG remembered that the other four were breaking their fast there at the moment. Appetite soured by the thought of eating with MG42 and SAA, StG slowed her pace as she thought of where else she could go. Simulations were not an option, with Schuhart present, and everyone in the dorm would hate her if she returned so early.

A chorus of footsteps clipped on the stone floor behind her. StG turned to see a trio of dolls, dummy links in tow. All of them carried large, handheld spotlights.

"Hey StG44!" MP40 called from the back of the column as they walked.

"MP40," StG greeted. "What are you doing up?"

"Searching. Kerr has search teams running 24/7, combing the forest right by Gatehouse Pavlov looking for a missing doll team."

"Today will be the second day of searching," said one of the other dolls, SIG-510. "Still nothing, but Kerr insists we continue."

StG started walking with them. "Whose team was it?"

"OTs-12's," said SIG-510. "Yew team. They're pretty good, so it's surprising that they disappeared like that. I heard that one of theirs made it out, but no one's seen her. You know how secret Kerr keeps stuff here on base."

"Frankly, I'm surprised she's kept the search going for this long," MP40 huffed. "You'd think she'd call it off after an entire day of no results. Search teams have been going 24/7."

Maybe they're more important than the dolls that get trapped in the mountains, StG thought, but she had the tact to not say that to MP40.

"Want to help?" the blonde doll asked, holding out a spare spotlight. StG stared at it for a moment before she accepted, wrapped her gloved hand about the handle. MP40 smiled faintly. She was never much for a grin. "Glad you can help. It's a shame you don't have your dummies, though."

"The extra conversation will be enough for me," SIG-510 said. StG suspected that she wouldn't be as conversational as the other doll seemed to think, but didn't say anything about that either.

The team leader was MG34. She had looked over her shoulder at StG when she first approached, but hadn't made conversation. StG suspected she was looking at her through one of her dummies as they walked. It had been quite some time since they last talked, and StG wondered what the other doll thought of her. The last time they had met was StG's arrival to S17, where MG34 had been stationed as one of Kerr's guards at the time.

It was a long walk from the depths of the base to the blast door blocking access outside, but they made good time. Soon, they were walking down the winding path leading to Gatehouse Pavlov and the forest. StG peered up to the eastern sky, spying the morning star. Venus, she knew, but she still thought of it as a morning star. She had first taken notice of it when out on a mission in the pre-dawn morning.

"Of all the things you lose your cool about, it's a damn speck in the sky," FAMAS chided. "If you can see that so well, why don't you search for any hidden Sangvis snipers?"

"It is kind of pretty," Tokarev allowed. "But FAMAS right. Distractions aren't welcome."

"Sangvis isn't going to have any snipers here," StG said to FAMAS, but she had found five of them soon after the conversation. NTW-20 had sent StG to take them all out while the rest of them went about with the main objective, and StG swore to never look at the morning star again.

It fell out of sight as they approached the gatehouse, obscured by towering pine trees. The gatehouse guards greeted the search unit.

"The last search team is still out there," said one of the dolls. StG identified it as KS-23 by her gun. Like all shotgun dolls, she wore thick, variable armor plating. This doll in particular wore it like a skirt, close about her hips. "You guys wanna wait for them to come back?"

"We'll head out now," MG34 said without so much as a glance to her subordinates. KS-23 grinned a wide, toothy smile.

"I'll open the gate for ya and radio the other team to remind them to return. Good luck out there."

As they walked through the gate, StG saw the other doll of the guard, T5000, perched atop the guardhouse. She stared down at the passing dolls with a gaze StG could only like to that of a bird of prey. Her bright red hair was visible even in the night, and StG knew that it would be even brighter when the sun came up.

"It was her shift when OTs-12 and her squad disappeared," MP40 whispered to StG as they entered the forest. "Word is that she hasn't left her station since."

StG admired T5000's dedication, though the others didn't seem to share her sentiment. They were quickly deep within the forest, and all of them turned on their spotlights, sweeping the ground.

"Listen up," MG34 said. "This sector's already been searched, but we'll be searching it again. MP40, SIG-510, up in the trees! Keep most of your dummies down here."

Are those Kerr's orders, or your own initiative? StG wondered. MG34 had seemed like a cat's-paw for Kerr – capable, but obedient – though she wondered if the doll had gained some sort of independence and was seeking recognition from Kerr by being a bit more assiduous in her search efforts. Well, StG knew that was bound to fail from the start. MG34 might devote her entire duty report to the matter, but Kerr might as well have never read it in the first place. The only thing that will get you noticed is failure. StG pondered if any doll had been praised by the Commander. She doubted it, though she had to admit that there had never been a doll that seemed insulted by her either.

Above her, MP40 grappled with the tree branches, carefully climbing about and probing dark corners for any sign of the missing dolls. In her black uniform, she was a floating head and shins, hard to track. StG had good eyes, though, so never lost track of the blonde doll. ...why don't you search for any hidden Sangvis snipers? FAMAS asked. StG swallowed and tightened her grip around the spotlight. The ground underneath her boots was thick with pine needles and fallen brush, numerous tree branches blocking her way. Her steps positively bounced on the detritus as she walked forward, but StG ignored the sensation and plunged forward. MG34 was well behind her now, as were the other dolls.

StG had covered a fair bit of ground when she felt something hard underneath her boot heel. The dawn's sunlight was beginning to filter through the trunks by now, but it was far from bright enough to see unassisted, so StG pointed the light downwards, lifting her foot. The muted shine of the shell casing glimmered up from its bend of pine needles, and StG bend down to pick it up. 7.62x54 millimeter, rimmed. Mosin-Nagant… or SV-98. StG looked back to see if MG34 was within shouting range, but the doll was a ways off. She shone the light around her, looking for similar casings, and found that several of them shined back at her. Casings, but no doll. Perhaps she was up in the trees. MP40 had not reached this section of the forest yet, so StG pointed the light up into the branches. Nothing, of course – it would be too easy if she found SV-98 right in front of her.

StG clipped the spotlight to her belt and made for the nearest tree trunk, setting her hands on it. It would be hard to climb with her heeled boots on, but not impossible; she was a doll, after all. The bark was rough, even through her gloves, but with enough scrabbling she reached a large enough branch to hang onto and pull herself up onto it. The branches were dense enough that she found handholds easily enough, and she could almost walk normally. StG took the spotlight back in her hand and started moving about, scanning the thickly packed branches for any sign of SV-98.

She had never met the doll she was searching for. StG guessed that she was like most snipers: weird, and perhaps a loner. NTW-20 was always the exception, she found, but even the pink-haired doll had moments where she wished to be alone, and she certainly wasn't normal. The other side of spectrum were dolls like WA2000, awkward and aloof, a nightmare to talk to. StG knew that it was quite hypocritical to think so, but disliked the doll nevertheless. At least I can cook.

Her thoughts strayed to the team SV-98 had been in, and OTs-12. She and the Russian assault rifle were of the same level, though they had not talked at all. OTs-12 was one of the hundreds of dolls that simply did their job, no more, no less. StG was like that too, she supposed, until her S09 Commander abandoned her near that safehouse, and nothing had been simple afterwards. She is lucky to be in her position, StG thought. Hunter Squadron was a challenge, and she craved that part of it dearly, but StG would give anything to lead her own echelon, away from FAMAS and in a place where she could make a name for herself. OTs-12 was much like herself, though regrettably in many ways quite different. StG44's stomach twisted, but she ignored the feeling.

StG pulled her hand away from a branch, only for it to come away sticky with sap. Her hair was probably in a similar situation. It was too late for her to do anything about it though, she would simply have to wash her hair rather thoroughly when she returned to the base. At least she had gloves on, as she could replace the sap-covered ones instead of scrubbing her hands.

By now, the sun had fully risen, and the branches were further illuminated to the point where the spotlight hindered more than helped. StG switched it off and went to simply scanning her surroundings. If SV-98 had left any indication of her presence, it would be around here, above where her casings had been. A last-second weapons discharge, StG thought. She was no forensic scientist, but such deductions were not difficult to make. Perhaps she took cover farther up in the trees. A sniper's place was up high, she supposed, so it would be natural for the doll to seek shelter up there.

StG began climbing vertically, ignoring the scratch of pine needles at her face. At one point, her hat was pulled off and fell through the branches to the ground below. She ignored the loss and kept going.

"StG!" came a voice from below. She identified it as MG34's, but ignored the call and continued on. "What are you doing?"

A visual survey of the territory above her showed a large object blocking the sunlight. Big enough to be a doll, StG thought, and started making her way towards it. Color or defined shape was impossible to make out from the silhouette, but as StG got closer her heart – coolant pump – beat faster, if it would in such a situation. She ignored the distraction and reached out a gloved, sticky hand to the object. Just a little farther, and she would have it within her grasp.

Her fingers brushed cloth, and the object started. Doll. But before StG could do anything, the branches supporting the object bent, and it fell, crashing through branches as it plummeted towards the ground. StG slid off her branch and let herself fall after the doll, clothing whipped about her and branches caught in her gun's sling. She maintained enough control of her descent that she was able to grab at branches as she neared the ground, so StG only hit the forest floor with minimal pain.

She had landed face first, and the fall had produced a ringing in her ears, so the first thing StG felt was a boot on her side. Her hand flew to her back, expecting to find her gun; but rough pine needles on a branch was all she got. The doll rolled over to see the other three dolls in the search team standing over her. MG34 set her foot back down on the ground.

"I guess her underwear matches her skirt," SIG-510 snickered, hands on her hips. StG looked down to see that her bottom had been thrown up in her fall. SIG-510 grinned, but MG34 only looked on with a stone face. MP40 had the courtesy to avert her gaze. StG took a deep breath to calm herself and reached down to pull the hem of her skirt down.

"I see you found what we were looking for," MG34 said frostily, turning to look at the doll lying prostrate a few feet away. StG got to her feet and brushed debris off herself as she looked at the doll, then reached behind her and extracted the pine branch that had gotten caught in her weapon sling.

"Only one of twenty-four."

It was SV-98, no doubt. Her light blue outfit and white scarf were unmistakable, her face less so. It had been torn at as an animal might, eyes gouged out and skin removed to reveal the endoskeleton underneath.

"I remember M38 telling me that there are wolves in the mountains," MP40 said.

"Wolves don't tear synthetic skin off of androids," said MG34. StG knelt down by the doll's head as the others speculated.

"And where's her gun?" MP40 asked.

"I didn't see it up in the canopy," StG said, probing at SV-98's head with her fingers. "This doll's missing parts. Optics, nervous system control, all the important stuff."

"Get your hand out of there," MG34 chided, but StG ignored her, looking further.

"Something cannibalized parts from her."

"You can do that?" MP40 asked. "How would that even work? Doll parts aren't usually compatible if you're not the same model, and Griffin dolls can't just attack each other, right?"

"Usually," said SIG-510. "But this can't have been anyone from Griffin, and Sangvis isn't capable of this. They don't even have a Ringleader right now."

By now, StG's gloves were stained with coolant from SV-98's skull. She resisted the urge to roll over the corpse and inspect the rest of it, instead wiping her glove clean on a fistful of leaves.

"Done with that?" MG34 asked. StG ignored her.

"We need to bring this back to the base right now. It needs to be analyzed."

"What's there to analyze? Scars?" said MG34. "You said yourself all the important parts of it are missing. Without any sort of memory unit or central processor, the techs don't have anything to extract data from."

"Combat data recorder," StG replied. "They can cut it out and analyze memories from that."

MG34 said nothing. MP40 walked over to SV-98 and took her under the armpits, trying to lift her. "SIG-510…"

"I got it," said the doll, taking SV-98 by the ankles. StG avoided any glances from MG34 as she walked forward. The affair was morbid, for sure, but she felt an odd sense of satisfaction at having found the corpse. Something FAMAS might have missed, she thought.

StG glanced up. There weren't any hidden Sangvis snipers.


	11. OTs-12 Chapter 3

The cold was bearable now. OTs-12 could walk around properly now, so that helped, but the lack of clothes did not. As long as she kept moving, it would be all right, but she had to move a lot for it to be of any help, and SV-98 and herself agreed that wasting the energy was not a wise course of action. They had no food, nor a battery to recharge from.

SV-98 had suggested that they huddle to share warmth, so they did, pressing their bodies against the other's. It was an odd experience, but enjoyable nevertheless. OTs-12 did not like the feel of SV-98's cold, dry skin underneath her fingers, nor her oily, matted hair, but they tried it nevertheless. OTs-12 had quickly come to the conclusion that it did little to help – they could barely heat themselves, let alone each other – but SV-98 seemed oblivious and Tiss did not have it in her to stop the blonde doll from clinging to her.

"Why do they even go numb in the first place?" OTs-12 asked once.

"I have no clue," SV-98 replied. Neither was particularly knowledgeable on their own physiology, nor did they have the ability to access their digiminds for the information stored in there.

Their minds had been tampered with, that was for certain. The splitting headache OTs-12 woke up with had not gone away, only faded, and when SV-98 revealed that she too had a migraine, the matter was decided. Both of them also lacked memories of the moments leading up to their supposed capture, and thus assumed that memory loss was part of the tampering. She did not know how much memory she had lost, however, and hoped that it was only a little.

The worst part of the cave was the darkness, though it was a blessing as well. OTs-12 was glad that she was unable to see her own body, surely a wreck, nor SV-98's. They had showered together as an echelon at the Griffin base, of course, but that was different than being trapped in a cave naked. The thought was unpleasant to the core, but OTs-12 thought about it every time her toes caught on a rock or her stomach brushed on a stalagmite by accident.

Accidents happened a lot less now, though. By experience, she had grown a great deal more familiar with the cave, and knew her way about as well as SV-98. It was not especially large, but it wasn't small, either. Neither she nor SV-98 had found an exit, however, only solid stone and thin crevices too small to pass through.

In many ways, the cavern reminded OTs-12 of the mountain base she lived and worked in. It too was underground, so many of the walls were solid rock rather than concrete or steel, and it shared the labyrinthine characteristics of the natural cavern system. There was a map somewhere, OTs-12 knew, but she found it fun to navigate it without one. Beyond the cafeteria, dorms, command wing, and training area, there were dozens of armories full of ammunition, storage rooms of canned rations and MREs, boiler rooms, closets, backup command stations, emergency bunkers, battery storage, auxiliary doll recharge stations, vats of extra coolant, and the halls upon halls of data storage used for the base's terabytes of information. A great deal of it was digitized, but yet more was on paper, for security reasons. OTs-12 was sure that there were more rooms in the depths of the S17 base, but had failed to explore them, either through locked doors or due to a lack of time.

Now she was starting to believe that she might not get another chance. The cave seemed quite inescapable, its rough rock walls feeling as if they were growing ever closer with each hour. They were rough to the touch, and reminded OTs-12 of the same walls in the sublevels of the Griffin base. The walls down there were hewn from the stone with the typical Soviet utility, unlike the smooth concrete or dull steel of the last Griffin base OTs-12 had been stationed at. Everything Soviet had a rugged style about it that OTs-12 could not help but feel comforted by. It was simple, but somehow right, like her gun. That had been a good piece of Soviet engineering.

But OTs-12 didn't have her gun. It was gone, nowhere in the cave, so she assumed that it had been lost when she was captured. She had asked SV-98 about it when she finally identified the gnawing sense of loss as missing her weapon. SV-98 felt it too, and they agreed that it was a result of the etching process. OTs-12 had never been truly separated from her gun, so it was the first time she had ever felt something like this. It wasn't that her gun was by her side every moment, but it had always been close – at a locker in the dorm or in the combat prep rooms. Kerr had originally spoken of security measures that required non-security dolls to keep their weapons in lockers when not in actual combat or outside of the base, but uproar from the entire base population put that idea to a quick end. Perhaps the only time she didn't get what she asked for, OTs-12 thought.

She felt as if an arm were missing. Her gun meant a great deal to her, so for it to be gone was like nothing she had felt before.

"It's no use worrying about it," SV-98 had said when OTs-12 voiced her complaints aloud. "They're gone, and probably won't come back."

The prospect was not something OTs-12 very much enjoyed. In enough time, however, the sense of loss faded away to a point where it was not the entire focus of her waking hours, and OTs-12 moved on.

She had a great deal of waking hours. They could not sleep because enough inactivity would allow the numbness to enter their bodies again. OTs-12 had an internal clock, but had it been scrambled somehow, so she had no idea what time it really was, and neither did SV-98. They had certainly spent more than a few days down in the cave, and the effects were starting to appear. No food or recharging meant that their energy was fading, albeit slowly, and OTs-12 knew that if either of them suffered any sort of injury, it would be very hard to repair it.

They were walking around when OTs-12 felt a rumble in the stone. It was minor, but her core went into overdrive at the shaking. "SV-98!"

"Maybe a tremor."

OTs-12 tightened her hand into a fist, wishing she had her gun to hold onto. It was comforting. "Well, let's just hope we aren't too far down for it to affect us."

"Aye." SV-98 sounded preoccupied. OTs-12 could hear her pacing around the room, feet flapping on the stone floor. There was something else, too, a thumping, but she couldn't quite place the sound. Rocks falling in a nearby cavern? She made her way to one of the crevices she and SV-98 had found earlier. This one they had felt air from, a faint breeze, gentle to the touch. OTs-12 put her hands to the stone and felt for it again.

"SV-98!" Last time, she had barely been able to fit her hand through it, but as she reached for it now, her arm could slide through. Footsteps came on the stone floor. "What's taking you so long?" she shouted.

"I'm right here," came SV-98's voice, right next to her ear. OTs-12 nearly punched the doll out of surprise. The footsteps were louder, booted.

"Then… what…"

The wall OTs-12 had her hand on fell away, and her gaze was filled with white light. SV-98 yelped at the brightness, but OTs-12 restrained herself, throwing her arm up while she ordered her optics to adjust. Booted footsteps. Sangvis!

Before her eyes were done changing to fit the light, a set of hands seized her by the shoulders and hauled her upright. OTs-12 kicked and felt her foot connect with a hard visor before it was gripped by another hand, and soon she was held tight. With her arms forced away from her face, she had no choice but to look into the light.

"Bastards!" she hissed when she saw the grey-helmeted Vespids, but they made no indication of hearing her. SV-98 was held between four of them as well, and as OTs-12's eyes adjusted she could make out the other doll's nude form. Incorrect behavior. She looked away, back at herself. Her eyes stung from the harshness of the light and filled with tears, but she could still stare at her battered form. Bruises spotted her legs from bumping into rocks and walking barefoot, and her skin was crisscrossed with tears. IOP longevity be damned. The Sangvis dolls looked similarly worn, and OTs-12 wondered if they had been standing guard in some hidden area this entire time. SF products had always been hardy things.

The Vespids started marching at a steady pace. It was a narrow corridor in the rock, all natural, so they went single-file with their captives. The flashlight was turned forward, so OTs-12 was plunged back into darkness as she stared at the ceiling. Her old ache was returning, spreading through her body, but she craned her neck anyway to look forward. One of the purple-haired Ripper units was leading them, flashlight pointing the way. OTs-12 wondered if she could operate Sangvis weaponry.

She tried contacting SV-98 via Zener, but had no luck. Sangvis jam, she thought, or something of that ilk. Perhaps they had done something to her body when she was captured.

They had been walking for ten minutes when the passageway opened up into another cavern, this time better lit. Large, portable lamps were set along the walls, though their dim orange glow served as poor illumination. It was at least a little warmer, though not enough to stop OTs-12 from shivering. She looked around her and saw more Sangvis, dozens of them, all standing in perfect rows between the lamps. The cave was still quite dark, so OTs-12 suspected that what she saw were only the front few ranks of entire companies of dolls, with hundreds more behind them. Guard units stood with their shields in the ground, still as statues, with rows of Vespids and Rippers behind them. The two Griffin dolls and their escorts were the only ones moving in the entire cavern.

They approached the far end of the cave, cloaked in darkness. A few deactivated lamps were nearby, and the Ripper moved off to turn them on. The Vespids holding OTs-12 reoriented themselves so that she was upright, staring off at the inky black shrouding the end of the cavern. SV-98 was put up next to her as well. The Ripper started dragging the lamp over to the two captives to illuminate them.

"A warm reception," OTs-12 said, turning her head to SV-98. "Sangvis rolled out an entire division for us–"

"Silence," intoned the Vespids holding her, speaking in unison. Unnerved, OTs-12 looked forward, watching the Ripper drag the lamp forward. Its orange light spooked the darkness hanging about, edging it away, until OTs-12 could see what sat at the end of the cavern, formerly shrouded in darkness. A matte black carapace in the vaguest form of a female, similarly dark hair free-flowing down its back. It was in a crouched position, knee to the ground, and OTs-12 wondered if it as asleep, until she noticed the thick cord running into the small of its black. The Ripper pulled the other lamp over to the little gathering before standing at attention.

Slowly, the black doll stirred. First, it unfolded its arm and reached around with unnatural flexibility afforded by robotic joints and no synthetic skin. Its hand coiled around the cord and pulled, disconnecting with a single tug. It got to its feet with a careful ease that frightened OTs-12. She had fought thousands of Sangvis, even Ringleaders, but nothing like this. It had no real face, only a mask as black as the rest of its body.

The Ringleader – OTs-12 supposed it was a Ringleader, only they had unique bodies – took a step towards her. It walked as naturally as any other doll, she would give it that, though it only discomforted her more.

"OTs-12. Tiss. Yew. Team leader. AR-type T-doll, in service for three-hundred twenty-one days." The Sangvis's voice was rough, as if its creator didn't bother to install a full-spectrum voice module. "Reconnaissance mission, long-range."

Memory extraction, OTs-12 realized. The Sangvis had some sort of module allowing for it to remove her memories and read them. There was valuable information in them, Griffin operations and base layout! The Sangvis was approaching her. OTs-12 jerked against the Vespids holding her limbs, but their grip was rock solid.

"SV!" she said, looking to the other doll desperately, but SV-98 was in no position to assist. The Sangvis Ringleader reached a hand out towards OTs-12's chest. My external access port. OTs-12 bucked her chest away from the Sangvis's inquisitive hand until it rested its other hand on her shoulder, holding her still. It was freezing cold, and its grip so firm OTs-12 felt that her shoulder was going to break. It was all she could do not to scream in pain, let alone stop the Sangvis, so it got to the access port easily. One fingertip peeled back to reveal a jack that slid inside, and OTs-12 suddenly felt the Sangvis's electronic presence. It was as cold as its hand, but now it froze her mind as well as her body. She lacked any electronic warfare module, so the Sangvis broke past the firewall and into her digimind with ease.

Before she knew it, the Sangvis had taken its finger out of her chest and stepped away. "Bastard!" shouted OTs-12. "Thief! Scrap metal!"

"Silence," repeated the Vespids. The Ringleader turned to SV-98.

"OTs…" said the doll, panicked. OTs-12 could not even reprimand the doll for not saying her name right.

"Get away from her! I'll rip your damn head off!" The Vespids were hard pressed to hold her steady, but no matter how hard she pulled SV-98 was no closer to her. The Ringleader wasted no time with SV-98, holding her steady with one hand as it jammed the jack into her chest with the other. SV-98 went limp as her digimind was invaded. "SV!"

"Silence."

The Ringleader pulled its finger out. SV-98 sprang back to life, but only hung in the Vespid's grasp, defeated. OTs-12 stared at her partner for a moment before her stare went back to the Ringleader, which was standing stock still. It was nothing like the Ringleaders OTs-12 had seen or read about. They boasted and bluffed, flourished and monologued, no matter their real nature. But this one only stood, and its voice was not meant for speaking. OTs-12 supposed it was analyzing the data it had stolen from the two dolls.

"Freak" was the only insult OTs-12 had left, so she shouted it at the top of her lungs. "Freak doll! Worthless Sangvis scrap! Die!" The doll had taken her team from her, then her freedom and modesty, and now the Griffin information she carried. She had let her team down, and she had let Kerr down. The burning guilt in OTs-12's stomach turned into rage directed at the Sangvis. "I'll kill you! You'll regret this!"

"Silence," said the Vespids, but this time the Ringleader took notice. It came to stand in front of OTs-12, leading forward uncomfortably close. Its eyes were black pools melded with its face, utterly inscrutable.

"Bitch!" OTs-12 shouted, hoping to startle the Sangvis. It made no reaction. OTs-12 spat on its face, though it hurt her chapped lips to do so. To her pleasure, the Ringleader recoiled at it, raised a hand and trying to wipe off the saliva. Its molded fiberglass hands were ill-suited to the task, however, only spreading it across its mask of a face. OTs-12 grinned as it probed with the finger. "Guess you aren't good for that, huh?"

"Silence," said the Ringleader, and OTs-12 could no longer breathe. A cold hand had taken a grip on her neck, firm and unyielding, and OTs-12 started to thrash as she tried to reach for the Sangvis's arm and pull it away. The Vespids held her still as the Ringleader tightened its grip. OTs-12 felt her gaze start to fade as her systems lost air. The Sangvis gripped ever tighter, uncaring of her gasps or spasms.

Suddenly, the Ringleader released, and OTs-12 managed a single gasp of air before the side of her neck was torn open with a swipe of the blade that had appeared in the Ringleader's hand. Coolant gushed forth and ran down OTs-12's shoulders and chest. Fiery pain mixed with the freezing air to teach OTs-12 a new type of agony, one that made her breath stop in her chest.

"OTs-12!" shouted SV-98. The Ringleader plunged a hand into the tear, up to the knuckles, and OTs-12 felt its fingers wrap around her voice box. With a yank, the device separated from her body and the Ringleader stepped back. "TISS!"

You got it right, OTs-12 thought as her voice box disappeared into the Ringleader's body, to where she could not see. The Vespids released her and she dropped to the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of her own coolant. Her face was pointed away, towards the rows of Sangvis troops.

"NO!" she heard SV-98 shout before the doll screeched in pain and fell with a dull thump. OTs-12 tried to work her voice to call out, but could say nothing. The loss of coolant was starting to affect her, despite the cold of the cavern, and she lost consciousness just as she started being dragged out.


	12. SuperSASS Chapter 5

NTW-20 swung the knife up into SuperSASS's throat before she slammed a foot into the doll's gut, sending her flying across the room.

"Reset," she said as SASS felt at the wet hole in her neck. And like that, they were back to the beginning.

"Stop leaving yourself so open after an attack," NTW-20 advised. "Any good strike will mean nothing if your opponent can hit back right after."

SASS adjusted her grip on the okapi. NTW-20 had one too, except hers featured wood furnishing and a darker blade that failed to shine in the light. "Sangvis don't fight back like that, senpai," she said.

"Ringleaders will," replied NTW-20, and they were at it again. The doll launched a hefty blow, again aimed for SASS's throat, but SASS dodged the strike and swung her own blade toward NTW-20's shoulder joint. NTW-20 smacked SASS's arm aside and kicked her in the chest, knocking SASS to the ground and keeping here there with a foot on the chest.

"What?" SASS coughed. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," said NTW-20. "Just do it faster. Reset."

When SASS found herself standing up again, she moved as quick as she could. NTW-20 threw her hands up in a defense posture, so SASS feinted to the stomach before bringing her hand up to sink the blade into NTW-20's neck. The doll twisted and SASS found herself being carried over NTW-20's back and thrown onto the ground.

"Too slow! Reset."

They had been in simulation pods for over an hour, learning more and more hand-to-hand. NTW-20 insisted that SASS learn how to fight with just the blade, and cited numerous situations where it was necessary.

"Executioner. Sangvis Ringleader defeated by M4A1. She had a sword and a pistol, and liked to fight up close. How do you deal with that?"

"I wouldn't have to," SASS said irritably. "I'm a sni-"

"Stop using that excuse," NTW-20 said. "How do you deal with that?"

"I don't know! I'm not M4A1!"

"Clearly," NTW-20 said, unsatisfied. "Well, be glad that you don't have to be."

After the miniature lesson in Sangvis Ringleaders, NTW-20 had come at SASS much harsher, and she had yet to win any of the matches with her senpai. Now, they stood across from each other again. NTW-20's simulation self had tied her hair back in a long ponytail that hung down to the backs of her knees and she had discarded her side cap so it didn't fall off while she fought. Her cheeks were flushed red from exertion, and SASS had found herself staring at them too often, leading to a defeat. Now, she kept her focus on NTW-20's hands, looking to see where they would go next.

They went to the stomach. SASS's hand struck down and deflected NTW-20's blade from the wrist, and she swung her own knife upwards, hoping to drive it into NTW-20's jaw like she had to SASS. The taller doll moved fast, and danced away far enough to avoid being killed. The blade still cut up across her chin and lip, though, and coolant started leaking soon enough.

"Nice," grinned NTW-20. "But not good enough."

SASS took the initiative this time, advancing towards NTW-20 as she looked for an opening. Make one, she thought, and made a cautious swing for her opponent's temple. NTW-20 lifted a hand to block the swing, and SASS used the opening to strike at NTW-20's throat, but the doll caught her by the wrist. SASS pulled her knife hand around and sliced at NTW-20's midriff. The cloth parted to reveal a thin line where the tip had slid in, and coolant dribbled out. SASS's heart lifted at that – her first significant blow in a long while – until NTW-20 slammed a fist into her jaw, flattening her again.

"That's better," said NTW-20, playing with the wound and forcing more coolant out. "I wouldn't be combat capable for much longer. But, as you saw, I could still land a solid blow. So: go for the kill."

"That's the only thing I could do," SASS said.

"Then you messed up earlier. End it in one strike. Reset."

SASS launched a kick at NTW-20's leg. The pink-haired doll reached out to intercept it, and in that moment SASS shoved the knife into her arm, pushing it as far as it would go. The synthetic bone split with a muffled snap. SASS yanked the knife out, NTW-20's flesh tearing as the arm started to fall away. With nothing to intercept her next blow, SASS struck for NTW-20's throat, the knife point sliding through the trachea and esophagus and through the spinal cord. NTW-20's core and processor connection was severed, her eyes went dark, and she crumpled to the floor.

"I did it, senpai," SASS said, feeling quite pleased with herself. Hopefully NTW-20 would be pleased as well. It made SASS very happy to see the doll proud, though it didn't happen as often as she'd like. Maybe that's for the better. "Senpai?"

NTW-20 was dead. Coolant pooled on the floor beneath her neck from the stab wound, and the ragged stump of her arm gushed fluids wildly. Her mouth hung ajar, coolant welling up inside, and her eyes had turned a dull grey with the deactivation of the core. Her hand servos were frozen in their last position, so NTW-20's fingers were still tightly wrapped around the handle of her knife.

SASS got to her knees next to the corpse. "I'm so sorry, senpai… Even though you want me too, it still feels wrong to kill you, if you understand."

NTW-20's corpse made no reply. SASS thought of the Dragoon she had stabbed in the forest during the convoy mission. At least her breasts aren't out, SASS thought, although the concept produced a feeling other than humor in her. She brushed it off as awkwardness.

Her senpai had not magically come to life while she was thinking, so SASS figured she ought to reset the simulation. She took one last look at NTW-20 – the long, pink hair, the black schoolgirl uniform, knee pads and shoes, grey-black tights. They were like SASS's own, now that she thought about it. Long legs, SASS thought. I wonder what size she is? "Reset."

Her digimind was pulled away from the simulation and thrown into a fresh one. NTW-20 set her fists on her hips, a slight smile tweaking the edges of her lips. "Nice one. I mean, really good! Throat strike is nice. Just remember that you could miss the spinal cord if you don't aim right. And the arm! Excellent." NTW-20 broke into a full grin.

SASS kept her gaze on a point to NTW-20's left. "Ah, lucky, I guess. I failed all those other times."

"Well, you'll learn to do that stuff again," NTW-20 said, tossing her knife up in the air in a lazy spin. "And over and over again, until it comes naturally."

"Aren't Ringleaders a bit too well armored to be defeated by a knife?" SASS asked, dubious. NTW-20 shrugged.

"It depends on the model, really. But you won't need to worry about that for a good long while… unless Kerr throws your echelon into combat soon. And even if that happens, there's not going to be a Ringleader around here for a bit of time."

SASS sheathed her knife. "Everyone says there's already a new Ringleader."

"So I've heard." NTW-20 shrugged again. "Idle gossip, mess hall rumors. Kerr would tell us if there was. Now, ready to leave the sim? You did pretty well for today."

NTW-20 gazed off for a moment, and then the exit point appeared in the form of a bright red door. It opened to a void, and NTW-20 stepped through, disappearing instantly. SASS went after, sensing the swoop in her stomach right before her vision went to black. The next moment, she was in the sim pod, watching NTW-20 step out onto the floor.

"Here you go." The pink-haired doll offered her hand to SASS, who took it and pulled herself out of the recliner seat in the pod. "Where're you headed next?"

"Back to the dorm," SASS replied. "We're not on a shift right now, so that's where everyone's been hanging out."

"I'll walk you back."

The two left the sim room and began walking down the corridor. It was early at night, so the hallways were still bustling with dolls moving to and fro their jobs. Kerr had increased search efforts in the wake of Yew Team's disappearance, so the blast doors to the outside were nearly continuously open as teams changed shifts. Elsewhere, dolls were busy maintaining the base, preparing for logistics missions, and performing basic duties. The simulation pod bay was in the doll services area, surrounded by the multitude of rooms devoted to the upkeep of the android soldiers. SASS witnessed PPSh-41 behind the wheel of a forklift, loaded with boxes of replacement parts.

"Lots of organics recently," NTW-20 observed, and the two of them watched a trio of human technicians trooping along the hallway.

"I didn't know we had this many," SASS replied. She had seen very few humans in person during her service in S17. Once she had seen Kerr during her induction with the other new transfers, and on occasion a mechanic or armed Griffin soldier was present in one room or another, but generally humans were few and far between in the base. Perhaps it's just due to the size of the base, SASS thought.

"Kerr has them coming out of the woodwork ever since StG44 recovered that cannibalized corpse in the forest."

"Corpse?" SASS asked, incredulous. "From what?"

"SV-98," NTW-20 said indifferently. The doll waved to someone SASS recognized as M99, a little mouse-like thing barely visible amongst the other, taller dolls. "Say, she was the same rifle class as you, right?"

"Three-star rating by IOP's commercial ranking system, yeah," SASS said, remembering. SV-98 had been better in terms of skill, though, and always a bit more confident than SASS was. But now her death had been confirmed. SASS remembered hearing the news of Yew Team's disappearance. She had never spoken to SV-98, at least not in a personal sense, so she was not rocked by that so much as the disappearance itself, so close to the gatehouse. Something had been powerful enough to take out a skilled Griffin echelon right when they were set to pass Gatehouse Pavlov. "She was pretty good."

"Good shot," said NTW-20. "Can't really beat bolt actions for a dedicated sniper." She looked to SASS and her gun. "...not that it's exclusive like that."

SASS smiled. "It's okay, senpai. I'll do my hardest to make up the difference."

NTW-20's face softened for a little as she looked SASS in the eyes, and SASS felt her smile go from obligatory to genuine. "Good attitude," NTW-20 said finally. SASS blushed and turned away.

By now, they were crossing the main hall. A copious amount of humans were walking about, always in pairs. SASS recognized some of them them as wielding older Soviet weapons, modernized Kalashnikovs. Their camouflage fit right into the aesthetic of the dark stone and iron of the hall.

"Ratnik gear," NTW-20 said. "Must be surplus from the military."

"The camouflage must be useful." SASS had long wondered why Griffin didn't outfit its own dolls with such gear. It would prove infinitely better than the gimmicky outfits several models were produced with.

"Pretty expensive for a PMC, too," said NTW-20, seemingly reading SASS's thoughts. "The military's pretty stingy with their gear, so it might be some sort of special situation."

The men started shouting in Russian, but SASS and NTW-20 passed into the dormitory hallway before SASS could hear any more. It was much quieter here, with most dolls away from their rooms, though several still walked the halls. "What room are you in?" SASS asked.

"Won't tell you that," NTW-20 said. "You wouldn't want to visit."

SASS raised an eyebrow. The habitation wing for dolls stretched on for quite a while, so it could be any one of hundreds of rooms. But NTW-20 seemed unlikely to say anything else, so she kept her mouth closed until they reached Grizzly Echelon's dorm.

"This is it," said NTW-20 as they approached the door. "More hand-to-hand tomorrow?"

"Maybe," SASS said noncommittally. "I don't really feel like stabbing you again…"

"It does take a bit to stomach attacking another IOP doll," NTW-20 replied, and SASS saw her thoughts stray to something different for a split second. She prized the room key from her pocket and fitted it into the door, turning and pushing.

"SASS!" Grizzly shouted, silhouetted like some sort of cryptid by the bright room lights behind her. SASS waved to her and stepped over the threshold, starting to take off her shoes.

"Bit messy in here," NTW-20 commented, poking her head in.

"RFB doesn't really pick up after herself," SASS explained. "It's actually kind of clean today."

Grizzly stepped over to SASS, her face becoming visible. SASS's gaze flew back to NTW-20, who was looking at Grizzly with detached curiosity. "Grizzly."

"NTW-20," said Grizzly. "How're you?"

"Getting along." NTW-20 leaned on the doorjamb and crossed her arms. SASS looked back to Grizzly to see her hands pushed into her pockets. That seems a little fake.

"How's that dog of yours?" Grizzly asked, and it was then SASS knew she should be quiet.

"Funny you should mention it. I'll be handling it in a few minutes."

Grizzly nodded slowly as SASS straightened up. "Superb."

"Just so you know," NTW-20 said, taking her weight off the doorjamb, "Nobody talks shit more than Americans, so take everything you hear with a grain of salt."

Grizzly huffed. "You're not wrong on that count. If you're meeting with her, then you'd better leave now."

"No kidding. SASS." NTW-20 smiled at her. "I'll be seeing you."

In a turn of pink hair, the doll was off down the hallway. Grizzly turned away from the doorway and walked back into the dorm, and SASS followed. The other three were arrayed about the common area. M590 was out of the repair bays, her leg good as new. Now she stretched out on the couch with a beer in one hand, pillow behind her head. Ingram was sprawled out on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and RFB sat on a cushion, controller in hand.

"Hey SASS," M590 waved as she walked in, though the other two failed to acknowledge her arrival. Grizzly went behind the counter, and SASS took a seat in an empty chair. "How's it been?"

"Fine," SASS said, unwilling to discuss her training session with NTW-20. "How was the repair bay?"

"Insufferable as usual," the doll replied. "I tell you, MP448 gets more and more annoying every time I visit. And the repair machine itself is a bitch to deal with, poking and prying. I'm glad they put you to sleep for repair work."

Grizzly took a seat next to M590, relaxing back into the couch. "I saw you naked," she said, turning to smile toothily at the shotgun. "Now we're even."

"You could've asked and I would've shown," she grinned back.

"Then it's just not the same."

"You're naked in the repair bay?" SASS asked, suddenly self-conscious of if anyone had seen her without clothes.

"Yeah. Bit hard to repair you when you're wearing clothes," M590 said. "And don't worry. Most dolls have the decency to be embarrassed, or at least not look. Unless it's Saiga… or maybe one of those other dolls. I mean, who else would do that?"

"HORNY COMMANDERS!" Ingram shouted.

"Horny commanders," Grizzly ceded.

"You know, back when I was in S09, that commander wanted to fuck every T-doll there," Ingram continued, still spreadeagle on the floor. "Except me. Which I understand. I guess I'm just too cool…"

"I doubt that was why they stayed away," M590 said, but Ingram seemed not to hear. "At least Kerr handles this base well. I'm willing to take few restrictions for more discipline, especially compared to those other bases…"

"So, did you guys hear about that stuff with about SV-98?" Grizzly asked. "Finding her corpse?"

"I've heard that it's been cannibalized," SASS said. "Like, someone took parts from it."

"Or something," said M590. Grizzly furrowed her brow.

"No one from Griffin, and surely not Sangvis. They've no Ringleader."

"Not by how they behaved with the convoy," M590 objected. "That was too coordinated for automated response systems. Something with a brain was directing it. Especially with that airstrike. I don't even know where they got that plane. It caught us completely off guard."

"This sector is chock full of old military stuff from the war," Grizzly shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past some Ringleader to get the bright idea to restore some of it. Though piloting it is where it gets confusing. That's no easy task for an android."

"Old piloting programs. I'm just lost as to how they could hide it from our scouts."

"Underground bunkers, jamming tech, stuff like that."

M590 took a sip of her beer, savoring the taste. Grizzly pointed to the bottle. "That IPA?"

"Yeah."

Grizzly stood up and went to the fridge. M590 settled back into the couch a little more and turned to SuperSASS. "Where'd you hear that about cannibalized parts? Everyone I've talked to won't let a word slip, if they even know in the first place."

"Er… someone who knew the doll who found the corpse."

"And who was that?"

"Son of a…" Grizzly muttered from the kitchen before the bottlecap clatter onto the counter. "Why they didn't put a beer opener right in here, I'll never know…"

"Well, we wouldn't want RFB drinking, would we?" said M590. "Lots of underage dolls here."

"We're in Russia. There isn't a drinking age. Besides, then we'd all be underage. How old are you, two years?"

"Two and three months. What'd you use?"

"Countertop edge. The one time that I wish I had a Galil," Grizzly grumbled. "Must be real convenient for her."

"Doesn't that doll in her echelon like tea? TAR-21?"

"Yup. Never liked the stuff." Grizzly lifted her bottle to her lips and sipped. "That's good."

"So… the corpse," M590 said, setting her beer down and putting her hands behind her head. "SASS said she talked to someone who knows the doll who found it."

"MG34?" Grizzly asked, suddenly looking awkward as she swallowed. "Who talks to her anymore?"

"No one," snorted M590. "SASS, who was it?"

SASS blanched as the attention turned to her. "StG44."

Ingram shot up into a sitting position. "I know her!"

"From where?" asked M590.

"From the defensive! I was still fighting when Hunter Squadron showed up, and I saw her moving around before a Sangvis got me. She's really good."

"No kidding," said Grizzly, exchanging a look with Grizzly.

"Really efficient, too… I couldn't imagine that sort of ammo conservation."

You couldn't imagine a lot of things, SASS thought. Still, Ingram had seen Hunter Squadron in action, or at least part of them. And she had survived the battle a lot longer than SASS expected.

"Huh. Well, I've heard some things about StG44, that's for sure," M590 said. "She beat up Garand a couple weeks ago, SVT too. Pretty serious, from what I heard."

"I have heard she's a bit psycho," Grizzly agreed. It was SASS's turn to look at the floor. StG44 had not seemed particularly odd when she was on the hilltop, only very professional.

"You get a bit of everything with dolls like her." M590 turned to Ingram. "She was in S09 with you, right?"

"Yeah, we were both in that AR Team affair together," said Ingram. "Helian never did let me get back at the Sangvis there."

"You're doing it now. Did you talk to Sturmgewehr at all?" M590 persisted.

"A little. She's very straight-laced and all that, not my type. And angry. She was pissed when she woke up in the new body, I was there for it. Then Kerr swooped in like a vulture and took us off the S09 Commander's hands, just like that. I have say, it's funny she ended up as prim and proper as she is..."

"Wack," said RFB, who had paused the game and pulled off her headset. "She seemed pretty uptight when I talked to her, advising me on battle strategy and stuff."

"She's bitter. I've seen it in dolls before," explained M590. "Ingram's right, though. S09's a pretty disorganized place, so it's surprising that StG isn't… well, of that ilk."

"Glad I'm not like that," Ingram sighed. "I just want to kill."

"All you need," said M590. The room then lapsed into silence as Ingram laid back down and RFB resumed her game. Grizzly and M590 sipped on their beers, and SASS had nothing to do except think. NTW-20's and Grizzly's encounter in the doorway was the first thing that came to mind. Did Grizzly blame NTW-20 for the landslide? And what if NTW-20 had really been the cause of the accident? SASS resolved to ask the pink-haired doll about it next time they met. The thought made her uncomfortable, but she supposed it was likely enough. "Any idea on our next mission?"

"Nope," said Grizzly. "We'll probably get it tonight. At least, I hope… don't want to be doing another inane task on base."

"Amen to that." M590 took another sip of her beer. "SASS, want some?"

"I'm fine," said the doll. "I don't drink."

Grizzly inclined her head, smiling. "Surprising, given how long you were with Thompson. It's nice to see someone who makes better choices, so many dolls nowadays are, well, a bit unrestrained." SASS blushed at the words. "M590, do you remember DSR?"

"I don't want to," M590 said derisively. "Just stay the way you are, SASS, and you'll be all right. Well, and stay away from any perverts, doll or otherwise. Weirdos like Ingram are okay. Though hanging out her type is quite the gesture to everyone else."

"Ingram's a gesture all right," laughed Grizzly, raising her middle finger. "Half the base thinks she's a suicidal hack, the rest are waiting for you to be committed Sector 78 so they can get a promotion."

"Watch those obscene gestures," M590 said, shaking her hands in mock disapproval. "Springfield will make you eat soap! And you're a bad influence on SASS."

"She's heard enough already, being around Thompson. I don't think I'll be the one to corrupt her."

"Wait," Ingram said, lifting her head. "Promotion? I have a rank?"

"Not officially," said Grizzly. "It's like… being assigned to a certain squad is a rank. We're a good fireteam, so it's a promotion for some dolls to be assigned to us."

"But, like, CBJ-MS would think it's a demotion because she's already on a really good team, Chrysanthemum. But Spectre M4 would probably be happy to join us," continued M590

"We're good?" SASS asked.

"Well, not terribly so. But better than others. There's a reason we didn't have accompaniment on the convoy mission."

Ingram butted back in and the three of them went back to doll hierarchy. SASS rested her head on her hand and pondered what Grizzly meant. Was she good enough to be "good"? Was that even an approval? Team Thompson had worked independently too, she supposed, but that was in a different sector with a different area of expertise. And Hunter Squadron was a different matter entirely.

SuperSASS dismissed the thought and allowed herself to feel pleased. She thought she deserved it after all the training and work recently.


	13. StG44 Chapter 4

The dormitory common room was deserted. The subliminal hum of the air conditioning mixed with the buzz of the fluorescent lights to create a gentle white noise that filled the background as the snap of playing cards broke the air. Tokarev shuffled the deck again before swiftly dealing them out with typical robotic precision. _A good hand_, StG thought as she peeked at hers. Type 79 kept an uninterested expression, but FAMAS's lip twitched in a sign of what StG took to be dissatisfaction. _Human mimicry programming getting the better of her,_ she thought. It had been a while since Hunter had played poker, so they were all out of practice.

The four of them had started talking again, memories of their last altercation fading away. It had been StG who suggested they play poker, a pastime introduced by a previous member of Hunter, M1895 CB, who had been transferred back in S16. StG thought of her every time she picked up a deck of cards. M1895 had been her predecessor, and they met only a few times before her departure. That first poker game had been a way of passing the torch. Little did she know at the time what that would mean.

"I'll bet five hundred," said Type 79, pushing a pile of worn, wooden tokens towards the center of the table. FAMAS pursed her lips, her eyes looking up at StG for a moment before going back to her cards. Sturmgewehr watched her expectantly, running through probabilities in her Digimind as the French doll made her move.

"Raise, one thousand roubles." The green-haired doll added to the pile. StG stared at her for a brief moment before swallowing and matching her amount.

"Call."

"Ten thousand five hundred fifty six roubles in the pot," Tokarev announced. StG looked to her dwindling funds and hoped that neither of the others would prove to have a better hand. She didn't need the money, but it would hurt to lose to either of the others.

"Five hundred." Type 79's metal hand, surprisingly dextrous, allowed her to flip one of her chips over and between her fingers with frightening speed. _I should learn that_, StG thought, but told herself that it would be a waste of time.

"Call," said FAMAS. StG studied the French doll. She was talkative the first few betting rounds, but had become utterly focused in the past couple minutes.

"Call," echoed StG.

"Fifteen thousand three hundred fifty six in the pot."

Type 79 set the chip she had been playing with down. "I think I'll go all in, ladies. Who's with me?"

"Son of a bitch," said FAMAS. "Fold."

_That gives me an improved chance. _Unless Type 79 wasn't bluffing, which StG found unlikely, she would win this match. "All in."

"Twenty seven thousand three hundred eighty. Type 79?"

Type 79 placed her cards face up. "Full house, fours over sevens," said Tokarev. "StG 44?"

_In the bag_, StG 44 boasted to herself as she revealed her hand.

"Seven-high straight flush," said Tokarev. "StG wins."

"Screw you." said Type 79, rubbing her eyes in exasperation. "Do you even show emotion? Damn poker face."

"Excellent play, 44," FAMAS said begrudgingly, collecting her remaining tokens. The green-haired doll seemed to have warmed to StG again. "I take it you accept your payment?"

"You can divide it evenly, Tokarev inclued" StG said. "I don't need the extra money."

"Nine thousand one hundred twenty six to each player, rounded down," Tokarev said. Type 79 and FAMAS produced their banking cards and inserted them into the dealer's console, as did StG 44. Tokarev processed the money and they all removed their cards, some of them richer.

"Excellent game, guys!" Tokarev said, breaking her dealer's persona to smile widely at each of them in turn. "You all played really well!"

"Blackjack next, right?" quipped Type 79, mollified by StG's charity.

"Too easy for dolls to card count," said NTW-20. They all turned to see the doll approaching from the dormitory entrance. "Howzit?"

"44 is a bit richer," said Type 79. "Shame you couldn't show her up, NTW."

"I've got more important matters than gambling." The pink-haired doll's usual smile had been supplanted by a thin-lipped frown. StG could only imagine one thing in S17 that would make her that serious. "It's the Commander. 44– with me."

StG 44 pulled at her gloves and adjusted her tie every few steps as they paced down the hallway. Beside her, NTW-20 walked straight-backed as ever, the typical blank face replaced with the mildest expression of trepidation. _At least you're anxious too,_ StG thought, reassuring herself that her tics were normal. Kerr probably produced that effect in most dolls. If StG was nervous, who wouldn't be? _FAMAS._ It was a long way to the command wing from the recreation center, but both of them were fast walkers and made good time.

"Any idea what she–"

"Nope," said NTW-20. "She never says."

StG reached for her tie again, pulling it tighter around her neck. _This is it._ Kerr had never asked for StG, and they had never spoken in person since her induction. Kerr's image flashed in front of her, crystal clear, hard eyes looking into StG's apathetically. _It'll be different this time._

The two approached the command wing's entrance. "Ladies," NTW-20 greeted the dolls managing the security checkpoint. PP-90 and AS Val got up from their seats, Val picking her rifle up and holding it under one arm.

"Don't see you around here too much," said PP-90, grabbing a handheld scanner from the table. "Kerr gonna tear you a new one or something?"

"Not quite," NTW-20 said, holding her arm out. PP-90 held the scanner over her forearm and watched the readout on the screen.

"Clear. StG 44?"

StG pulled her sleeve up and mimicked NTW-20.

"Clear."

"Hey, Sturmgewehr," said AS Val. StG turned to look. "Want to get a drink sometime?"

_What?_ StG considered the Russian doll. _Why?_ She knew Val from running simulations on occasion, but they weren't acquaintances. It came as a surprise for the Russian doll to invite StG out for a drink. "Er… sure. What time were you thinking?"

"Café, next week, 9 PM," said AS Val. "That's when the Americans are doing their jazz show."

StG nodded slowly and followed NTW-20 through the now-open door.

The first floor of the command wing was significantly quieter. The gentle murmur of office workers mixed with the _hum_ and _whir_ of active computers and printers, sounds of diligent bureaucratic labor. Drywall offices stretched the length of this floor, doors closed to outsiders and window blinds closed. Workers here were a mix of A-dolls, T-dolls, and organics, the staff vetted by the senior command team and constantly assessed to determine if they would be allowed to continue working in this wing. Kerr ran the base like a machine, and as the center of the operation, the command wing was the most carefully supervised sector of the entire facility. For all her love of efficiency and improvement, StG could not imagine working here.

The door closed behind them, sealing with a heavy _thunk_. NTW-20 and StG stood awkwardly by the entrance, receiving stares from a few of the human employees walking about, until the adjutant arrived.

"NTW-20," intoned Type 81, approaching them from a side hallway. "Thank you for arriving on time. Commander Kerr is waiting in her office. Please follow me, if you'd be so kind."

"Of course," said NTW-20. Gone was any trace of her former nervosity, and she moved smoothly and properly. StG did her best to stop her fidgeting and do the same. As they passed by the offices, she tried to get a glimpse of the inside through the windows, but only saw humans or dolls bent over desks or tapping away on computers. One of the doors ahead opened, and a brown-uniformed T-doll stepped out of an office, bearing a thick stack of papers.

"Type 81," the doll said, falling in with the three. "I've compiled the information that the Komandir requested, if you'd like to bring it to her."

"Much obliged," said Type 81, accepting the stack of papers graciously. "I'll take it to her now. What about the listening post analysis?"

The other doll bowed her head. "Still a work-in-progress, I'm afraid. I need to meet again with the communications team."

"Understood. That's all, then."

The three approached the elevator bank at the end of the floor, and Type 81 pressed the call button, the lightbulb within flickering to life feebly. Even the command wing, which was mostly modern and renovated, still had leftovers from the previous Soviet owners. StG could hear the elevator slowly lowering itself to their floor, clattering all the way. For such a large wing – StG estimated that this floor was more than a few thousand square feet alone – the elevators seemed painfully small. The doors in front of them opened, squealing into the walls, and Type 81 beckoned the other two to enter first.

It was cramped inside, and StG awkwardly brushed shoulders with NTW-20 as they made room for Type 81. The adjutant transferred the binder, clipboard, and papers she was holding to one arm and pressed a button with other, closing the doors and setting the elevator back in motion. It shook a little as they rose, heading directly to the top floor, where Kerr's office was. StG did not like in the elevator. She felt trapped in its faux wood paneling, shoved into a corner, like a caged pet being brought to the veterinarian.

The elevator ground to a halt, doors creaking open to reveal the command center. This was the first time StG had seen it outside of press releases, and it did not fail to impress. It was a large, long room, with an array of individual workstations around the walls. The far end of the room was covered in a large, wall-spanning projection of S17, with numerous emblems scattered about on the map, indicating the positions of friendly and enemy forces. In the middle of the room was a raised floor featuring a large holotable, around which several officers were gathered. Some were organic, but just as many were dolls. StG recognized white-uniformed Jericho, as well as the shorter Makarov, both of whom glanced at StG, and then took a longer look at NTW-20, as the two of them followed Type 81.

"The Commander's office is this way."

Type 81 led them off to the side of the raised portion, heading toward the map wall and taking a left. A door on the wall led to… _another checkpoint?_ StG found herself raising a bemused eyebrow as the adjutant took them into a small anteroom, with only a single wall-mounted control panel and a heavy, mag-locked blast door. No security dolls manned this door, only the automated security system. Type 81 quickly punched in a series of numbers, then swiped her forearm over the scanner. The light flashed green. NTW-20 and StG copied her.

"NTW-20 and StG 44 here to see Commander Kerr, escorted by Type 81," announced the adjutant. With a muted _clunk_ of retracting bolts, the door seal broke and it slowly swung outward. The room behind it was much larger, featuring several rows of scuffed wooden chairs lit by wall-mounted LEDs. A table sat at the end of one of the rows, holding a poorly stacked pile of dated magazines. Type 81 stepped over to the table and hastily straightened the pile. "Commander Kerr is currently in a meeting with another individual. She apologizes for the delay and invites you to make yourself comfortable while you wait."

"Of course," said NTW-20, taking a seat. StG lowered herself into the seat across from her echelon leader as Type 81 went to stand by the door. _Yet another door_, she thought, staring at the entrance to the office. Kerr certainly liked to keep herself secluded. StG supposed that it was a better alternative to the interfering, hands-on approach that many Griffin commanders – her old S09 CO included – tended to adopt. The dolls in S17 were largely self-sufficient, and even if not, the doll garrison in S17 was so large that it would be impractical for any one commander to singlehandedly liaise with every doll. In a situation such as this, StG believed that any good commanding officer would distance themselves from the troops and delegate responsibilities as necessary. _To avoid being compromised_, or so StG thought. She told herself that she had never been and would never be in a command position.

To keep herself occupied, the doll picked up one of the magazines.

POPULAR MECHANICS

June 2058

Humanlike Androids: Will Second-Generation Dolls Outdo Humanity On the Frontlines?

A smile tweaked the edges of StG's mouth as she read the headline. Where had this magazine even come from? An image of a brown-haired A-doll was plastered on the cover. Sturmgewehr opened the magazine and flipped through, passing some out-of-date articles on military technology until she found the piece on T-doll strategy.

"It is postulated," stated the article, "that second-generation tactical androids will require a complex decisionmaking and emotion module to truly supplant human troops in frontline combat. Prominent roboticist Eckhart Willenborg, a senior member of the Heer's recently founded Automated Infantry Division, has published a seminal report detailing the necessity of emotions in order to make an effective android soldier. 'Empathy is a key aspect of any infantryman,' Willenborg stated in his report's preface. 'Without the capacity to feel for their fellows, it is difficult for android units to be truly cohesive without a superior authority.'"

_Like emotion ever helped me with Hunter_, StG huffed, peeking at NTW-20 over the top of the magazine. The pink-haired doll was sitting still, staring off into the distance. StG presumed she was looking at something on her HUD and resumed reading.

"Willenborg's stance on emotion modules is closely tied to previously theorized 'master-commander' models of doll command, where tactically independent androids with individual preprogrammed personalities (capable of self-improvement and independent learning) were controlled – or rather, commanded – on a strategic level by one human officer. By delegating certain tasks to sapient androids instead of frontloading it on human operators as seen in 'command-control' models (e.g. New Soviet Union android units), it would be much more capable for one or a small group of humans to command a large unit of androids. Such a model, of course, relies on the command and interpersonal skills of the commander. There must be a certain amount of trust between the commander and those commanded. Reliance on hard-coded command obedience programs is not a suggested method of command, according to Willenborg."

StG looked at one of the pictures in the article, a Pan-European Union military officer standing at attention next to his platoon of android soldiers. _Trust between the commander and those commanded._ Though Kerr seemed to subscribe to a more aloof method of commanding. StG did feel somewhat assured of the Commander. Kerr was not friendly or cordial or relatable, but she was capable, and to StG, that was all that mattered.

Type 81 stepped away from the door moments before it swung open. Another Type 81, a dummy, stepped out, then stopped and waited for two others to follow. One was a uniformed officer, in the process of fitting a beret to his head, and the other was none other than Dr. Schuhart. The IOP scientist was garbed in a smart white shirt and subtly patterned tie underneath his unbuttoned, sterile white labcoat. The doctor adjusted his glasses and managed to catch StG's eye right before she could look away. "Sturmgewehr," Schuhart said, smiling at her. StG nodded robotically and then turned to put the magazine back on the table. "And NTW-20"

"Sir," the other doll acknowledged curtly. The uniformed man paused for a moment and glanced back at NTW-20 before he moved on. StG stood as the Type 81 dummy brushed by her. Schuhart inclined his head.

"Pleasure seeing you again, Sturmgewehr."

"The pleasure's mine," StG replied stiffly, automatically. The scientist turned and followed the Type 81 dummy, which opened the anteroom blast door and led the two men away. StG made for the office door.

"The Commander will have you enter when she so wishes," said Type 81, a clear tone of _don't-mess-with-me_ evident in her voice. The blast door locked shut as she stepped in front of the office door, making StG feel a little trapped. _Don't get between an adjutant and her commander,_ she thought.

"44–" NTW-20 began.

"They can come in," said a voice from inside the officer. Type 81 opened the door and stepped inside, followed by the two dolls. StG was so preoccupied with looking around that she barely had the presence of mind to pull the door shut behind her.

It was darker inside the office, lit by a pair of floor lamps and a single desk light. StG snuck a few looks around the room, taking in as much as she could. It was carved out of stone, like much of the base, reinforced with concrete and quite cold to the doll's outer thermometer. Every inch of the room was as austere and closed-off as its inhabitant. Kerr sat at a large wooden desk, its surface covered in neatly stacked papers. High on the wall behind her was the Griffin and Kryuger coat of arms, flanked by an Elite Griffin plaque and a red flag with two crossed swords and a lion atop a crown. The left wall was taken up by a large, ceiling-high metal bookcase, packed with nondescript grey binders. The right wall featured a large, framed landscape painting, next to which was a display box. The brass medals within glimmered faintly at StG as her eyes roved over the wall, lingering on a photograph of a young woman in uniform. A door on the back wall had been left ajar, and the doll could just barely glimpse a small bed through the crack.

As they came to a halt in front of the desk, the _tick_ of a clock became evident. Soon it was the only sound in the room, a constant, reliable noise.

"NTW-20, Sturmgewehr 44," said Kerr, raising a hand distractedly. She was looking down at her desk, a thick fountain pen in her right hand as she printed a note. StG could read (upside-down) "MEMO – DOLL SERVICES DIVISION" across the top.

"Kommandant," said StG, snapping her heels together and snapping her hand to the rim of her cap in a well-practiced salute.

"Commander." NTW-20 merely raised her hand to her brow.

"At ease," said Kerr. StG shifted into parade rest.

"Ma'am, Serdyukov completed the requested Sangvis logistics data compilation," said Type 81, stepping around StG to the side of Kerr's desk.

"Place it here." Kerr patted the edge of her desk. Type 81 complied before taking a place against the wall. "You may wait outside."

"Yes ma'am," said Type 81, heading through the door with nary a sound. _A perfect adjutant_, StG mused. Kerr continued to ignore her and NTW-20, scribing her note out onto the paper. Her thick, greying hair had been pulled behind her back, though it fell forward around her head like a curtain whenever she leaned particularly far forward. Her pen scratched away at the paper – she seemed intent on filling the entire page. StG contained her impatience. This was her first time meeting Kerr in such an environment, nearly free of judging observers like FAMAS or MG34. The Commander's bulky red overcoat and beret had been hung on a coat rack in the corner, and she wore only her white dress shirt and black skirt and tie. A pair of glasses were perched on her nose, simple and black-rimmed. Kerr was quite the inoffensive woman, visually speaking.

With a harsh mark of punctuation, Kerr leaned back and screwed the cap on the pen, setting it aside and picking up the papers she had been working on. With a tap to straighten them, she put the pile next to the one Type 81 had set on her desk. "Thank you for arriving on time, and please pardon the wait. Dr. Schuhart and Colonel Grinevich were especially talkative."

"We didn't mind," NTW-20 said. Kerr reached up and removed her glasses, folding them carefully and setting them down on the desktop. Her face was sharp and well-balanced, her voice carrying only a soft hint of a Scottish burr, covered by a British accent.

"Did you receive my earlier communique? You failed to reply to it over the net."

"I was occupied and it slipped my mind," NTW-20 said. Kerr nodded, making eye contact with StG for a split second.

"That's all right. I intended on discussing it with you during this meeting regardless."

The Commander leaned forward, putting her crossed arms on the desk.

"It concerns the Yew Team incident."

There was a subtle shift in the room. NTW-20 became more guarded, while StG felt herself put on edge. Kerr pulled a different stack of papers in front of her.

"We all know that this event is more than just an abnormality. The sector has been as quiet as ever since Operation Cataphract. The Ringleader is dead, Sangvis forces scattered. But somehow an entire echelon was killed or disappeared. It's even more unusual than it might be otherwise. The recovered corpse of SV-98 was revealed – after a necropsy – to not be a mainframe, and was in fact a dummy. However, that doesn't explain the missing optics or artificial nervous system. This sort of mutilation has never been seen before. As MG34 noted in her report, the nature of this incident is certainly _unknown_."

"So–" NTW-20 started, but Kerr held up a hand to stop her.

"Also pertinent is the results of Thistle Team's engagement with a Sangvis convoy. We all know how without the OGAS protocol, Sangvis infantry is useless. But Grizzly stated in her AAR that Sangvis was very much capable, organized, and even adaptive to her tactics. She said, 'Sangvis managed to not only set up an effective defense when they were ambushed, but nearly routed us and successfully cut our sniper off from the rest of us. Only through quick thinking and the team's cooperation did we win that particular engagement.' And after that, they were hit with close air support and nearly destroyed in the riverbed."

Kerr set down the paper she had been reading from and looked up, the mildest look of perplexion crossing her face.

"The Sangvis intelligence that Thistle recovered from the convoy? Virtually useless, out of date by a week. Just old communications logs, scrambled too. Everything here _reeks_ of a Ringleader. It would be impossible for Sangvis to do this otherwise."

StG's head spun with giddiness. Another Ringleader? _Another challenge._ NTW-20 had gotten the kill on the last one. This would be Sturmgewehr's chance to one-up FAMAS. "But," she said, betraying not a hint of her emotions, "Sangvis couldn't possibly have a new Ringleader so fast."

Kerr gave StG a funny look, but nodded in agreement. "That's what we thought. It's been barely two weeks since the last was destroyed. But there's no other explanation, unless Sangvis has made some amazing technological advancements over the past couple weeks."

"Do we know anything about this Ringleader? Is it a dummy of Headhunter?"

Headhunter had been the previous Ringleader, a bold commander who gave S17 a run for its money in the first few weeks. But after that first loss, it had only been a matter of time.

"Doubtful. The nature of Yew Team's disappearance is so strange that I, Dr. Schuhart, and others believe it to be a Sangvis model not yet seen. Stealth-capable, perhaps. A model we've never seen before. And whatever it did to the dolls in the forest, it infected the only survivor with a virus–"

"Parapluie?" NTW-20 cut in. StG's Digimind shuddered at the mention of the deadly Sangvis infection.

"Quite possibly, but we don't have enough information yet. The survivor – RPD – is being kept in confinement until a solution is found. She has been wholly useless in providing evidence or a witness report, merely shifting in and out of level one consciousness. So far, she has failed to show any hyper-violent tendencies indicative of Parapluie, so she has yet to be terminated. SV-98's corpse has also provided no clues as to the nature of the Ringleader, aside from its apparent propensity for _mélèe_ and cannibalizing carrion."

"So, a stealth Ringleader who mutilates corpses and can infect Griffin dolls with a virus on the spot." NTW-20's facial tics, normally suppressed, betrayed an attitude of… worry. _That's surprising._ Was it just something for the human's sake? Or was NTW-20 really that perturbed? "This is more than just an anomalous Sangvis, ma'am. It's an unknown one."

"Which is why I intend to deal with it as quickly as possible. Our first priority is determining where the Ringleader is operating from. I have already ordered the deployment of echelons in a wide search area to check former hotspots as well as predicted locations of Sangvis activity. Concurrent with this search is an effort to understand Sangvis's capabilities as a whole. Strength, logistic capacity, mobility, et cetera. We believed their combat readiness to be effectively destroyed after the last operation, but Thistle's convoy encounter proved otherwise."

Kerr unfolded her arms and instead laced her fingers together, setting her hands on the desk. Her voice was strong and steady, matter-of-fact in its delivery, and she made the matter of a new Ringleader sound as simple and easy to fix as brewing tea.

"Once we have the intelligence we need, we initiate a search-and-destroy operation to knock out Sangvis facilities and counter their efforts in the field. They're already pushing in from far away command posts, so we should respond as soon as possible. Neutralizing Sangvis assets now will make things easier in the long run."

"And you're telling us this because you want Hunter on standby in case the Ringleader shows up," NTW-20 surmised.

"If necessary, yes. Once we know where and what the Ringleader is, we devise an operation to corner it, Hunter heads in and takes care of the problem with support as needed. No one really knows how serious this will turn out, so we're assuming the worst and taking steps to anticipate a large operation. NTW-20, I'd like for you to begin drafting a report on what you think is the best course of action for dealing with the Ringleader. The command team and I will have a meeting to discuss the best method to apply in the coming days.

"Yes ma'am," NTW-20 said, inclining her head.

"Good. I advise you to consult with Jericho or Welrod if necessary, and Serdyukov's intelligence department is, of course, available if you should need it."

The Commander restacked a few papers and put them away, sitting up even straighter in her chair. There was a subtle change in her expression, something harder. Kerr finally turned her gaze upon StG.

"Now for you. I don't suppose you know why I asked NTW-20 to bring you along?"

"No, herr." _I should've known there was a reason._

Kerr's face was like stone. "M1 Garand suffered numerous injuries and had to spend over an hour in the repair bay getting them fixed. SVT-38 seemed to get off lightly in comparison, but a broken nose is nothing to sneeze at."

"I had my reasons," StG 44 said. _Why is everyone on my case about this?_

"I'm sure you did. The fact stands, however, that assaulting Griffin T-dolls _is _unwarranted damage of company property… not to mention the money expended fixing the dolls. Quite frankly, I didn't expect to see such _archaic_ behavior at this base. We're not S13," Kerr said, a tone of disappointment edging into her voice. "As a Griffin doll, you should have more respect for others and more self-control. _You, _Sturmgewehr, appear to lack both of them."

She paused, and StG kept a straight face, not wanting to betray the steady sinking feeling in her mind. The doll had thought the incident in the past. A mark on the record, perhaps. She hadn't ever done something like that. _I was a fool to think that way_, she berated herself.

"The question now is how to punish you for your actions."

"_My actions _were totally legitimate. She provok–"

"Nothing you did do those dolls is legitimate," Kerr cut in. "I don't care about inane squabbles over your previous deployment history and an injury to your self-esteem. You didn't act in self-defense, you attacked her because of an insult. This is not a primary school playground, and by allowing her to provoke you to action you are proving yourself the petulant child she thinks you are!"

The Commander had not raised her voice a great deal. In fact, it was nearly imperceptible. But something about it instilled a quiet sense of fear and an instinct of deference, and of guilt, in StG.

"Kommandant, I–"

"That's enough." Kerr shot StG a withering glare. "NTW-20, do you have anything to add?"

StG's breath caught in her throat. _Please, not her._ The Commander had already torn her down. She didn't need her team leader doing the same.

"Nothing you haven't said already, ma'am," intoned the pink-haired doll. "StG must keep a lid on her emotions."

"I _do_," StG muttered, an assurance for herself more than anyone else. _I try. _NTW-20 shot her a glare.

"I am in agreement," the Commander was saying. "Now, for the punishment. Given the circumstances, I think that reassignment would be prudent."

The words shocked StG. Hunter Squadron was her only real home, even if they had their disagreements. She couldn't imagine going elsewhere.

"But Hunter Squadron needs to be ready in case–"

Kerr nodded. "And it will be. If and when Hunter Squadron is deployed, you will be with them. But in the meantime, there are other things for you to do besides visiting the simulation pods. More _productive_ uses of your time. The question is where you will be reassigned. Most combat echelons here are full-up. It happens that Chrysanthemum Team has an opening, however."

Kerr picked up a tablet from her desk, flicking through a few pages on it.

"Ak 5 is on leave, at the nearest IOP branch receiving upgrades. You would make a good replacement."

She was already authorizing the transfer, handing the tablet over to NTW-20 so the T-doll could input her own credentials to confirm, and StG was shunted into Chrysanthemum just like that.

"You will eat, sleep, and work with them. I expect you to be on better behavior than you have been as of late. CBJ-MS will be informed of the situation, you are to report to her this evening."

Kerr paused to let that sink in. StG kept her face straight, desperate not to display even a hint of the emotions coursing through her wiring. Shock, embarrassment, anger. Anger at Garant, at SVT-38, at herself. The Commander leaned over her desk just a little, catching StG's eyes. The doll straightened her back even more, if that was possible.

"Sturmgewehr. You're in S17 because I wanted you to be. Remember that. Now wipe that petrified expression of your face and get used to your situation. This is _your_ fault that this is happening, no one else's.

As if on cue, Type 81 reentered the room. Kerr looked up at the black-haired doll, all business. "Type 81, please escort NTW-20 and Sturmgewehr 44 to the exit."

The last image StG got of Kerr was her setting her glasses back on her nose as she picked up a fresh stack of papers.


	14. OTs-12 Chapter 4

"Tiss…"

The pain was gone. OTs-12's mind was clear of the migraine, her limbs free of agony, her chest empty of ache. It was once again easy to breathe, and, better yet, any trace of numbness had vacated her body. For a while, she lay in pure bliss, eyes closed, enjoying her good health.

Something poked at her face. OTs-12 reached up to swat it away. _Go away._

"Tiss, it's SV-98!"

All of a sudden, the terrible memories of the cave came flooding back to OTs-12. SV-98, held firm by the Sangvis as it drew data from her, and OTs-12's voicebox stolen straight from her throat. The poking went away, and OTs-12 reached for her throat. A thick strip of duct tape had been placed over where the Sangvis had sliced it open. _Impromptu repair._

"I'm… oh God… I'm so sorry…"

OTs-12 finally opened her eyes. SV-98 sat on her knees by Tiss, face red and blue eyes brimming with tears. Her arms were folded across her naked breasts, and she was hunched over from tiredness. OTs-12 opened her mouth, wanting to say something to comfort the other doll, but no words came out. _Damnit._ She reached out with an arm and patted SV-98 on the shoulder, looking around as she sat up.

They were in some sort of compound. She was leaning on a shed, and to her right was the chain link fence that wrapped around the entire area. Across from them was a larger, longer building, though only one floor, and to her right was an open courtyard populated with wrecked military vehicles, broken-open crates of ammunition, and huge, rusted shipping containers.

SV-98 heaved a big sigh before wiping away the last of her tears and looking at OTs-12. "I c-covered you with some sheet metal, for the nudity."

OTs-12 looked down at the large sheet of aluminum tactfully placed over her legs and torso. She nodded thanks at SV-98 before raising both her hands. She needed to know where they were, but how to gesture it? Zener was still broken. At a loss, she merely swept her pointer finger about at their surroundings. SV-98 followed the gesture confusedly for a few moments before the doll understood.

"I… well, I don't know, I just dragged you here and then dressed the wound and sat."

_What the hell happened to you?_ OTs-12 thought. The SV-98 she had known was decisive and calm, not a sobbing wreck… though she supposed that she herself had been much the same back in the cave, if not worse. Maybe SV-98 had never seen wounds up close and was queasy. OTs-12 made to stand up, still holding the aluminum in front of her, and SV-98 slowly followed suit, covering herself with both hands. A quick look at the shed door behind her told Tiss that no one had entered it in ages. She looked back to her partner and pointed to the door, miming a punch. SV-98 looked at her in confusion. _Breaching,_ OTs-12 thought angrily, before giving up.

SV-98 averted her gaze as OTs-12 threw away her aluminum cover, raising her foot and slamming it against the door. The old, rusted lock broke easily and it swung in. OTs-12 instinctively raised her hands to check the corners with her gun, too late remember that she had no weapon. _Sangvis._ She would need a new gun, to be sure. The shed was empty regardless, and had been for a long time. It appeared to be some sort of workshop, with numerous tools strewn across battered metal tables. A thick layer of dust had fallen across everything, blanketing it all in a light grey haze.

It was early evening, but the overcast weather turned everything a great deal darker. Gloomy light filtered in through the grimy window over the workbench, so OTs-12 had a hard time picking out what lay in the corner. Something rectangular, to be sure. She was about to reach for it when SV-98 called out.

"Tiss, there's nothing in there, let's move on."

On the verge of protesting, OTs-12 stopped herself and exited the shed, picking up her sheet metal cover. SV-98 tried the door to the larger building and found it unlocked, pushing it open and walking inside. It was a long dining hall, though its former glory had been ruined when the windows were smashed and debris from the surrounding forest made its way inside. Petrified animal droppings littered the floor, as well as a copious amount of shattered glass. OTs-12 tapped SV-98 on the shoulder and pointed to alert her to the danger.

"You need a better way to communicate," said the blonde tiredly. OTs-12 could only nod.

At the end of the dining hall was the kitchen, though a sweep of that found little of use. The two dolls swiped mildewed dishtowels from the cupboard to cover themselves with before they reentered the courtyard. The packed dirt was hard underneath their feet, but OTs-12 found the chillness of the ground soothing.

Directly ahead of them was a rusting, green-painted truck, its wheels sunk halfway into the ground and its cloth cover featuring several large rents. Tiss circled around to the back, climbing up into the bumper to look inside. _Curse any IOP engineer who thought I looked cute short_.

Once inside the truck bed, OTs-12 peered around the darkened interior. Several wooden crates had been pushed against the side, and sprawled across the bench were the half-eaten remains of what she could only guess was a Soviet soldier. His body was half disintegrated, though the fatigues seemed good enough. OTs-12 looked back to SV-98 and made several gestures around her body.

"What?" said the blonde doll. "That's kinda erotic."

_Screw you._ Tiss pointed to fatigues, then to SV-98.

"Oh… I can't wear those! We're too short…"

OTs-12 again damned the IOP designers who chose to make the dolls as diminutive as they were. Perhaps they would be able to find good clothes elsewhere, though, and if not, she was not above some amateur sewing to get the job done. The doll turned her attention to the wooden crates in the truck. They were all marked in Cryllic, and they told her that there would be weapons inside. OTs-12 looked about for a bashing implement before taking the helmet off of the corpse's head and bringing it down on the crate, splintering the wood enough to rip it away with her hands.

Inside the crate was a row of neatly lined AK-15 rifles. OTs-12 cleared away the rest of the debris and knelt down to pick one up out of the box, inspecting it with a practiced eye. _2047._ Evidently an abandoned shipment of weapons from the third world war. It was heavier than her namesake weapon, to be sure, but would certainly do its job well.

She hopped out of the truck with an armful of magazines and set them on the bumper along with the rifle.

"How are you going to hold all that?" SV-98 asked. "And you know that neither of us can fire those too well, right?"

OTs-12 pointed towards the side of the shed, then mimed shooting. SV-98 shrugged.

"All right."

They approached one of the shipping containers. SV-98 set her hands into the door and leaned away from it, pulling the door out with an ear-splitting screech. OTs-12 missed her old earmuffs, which would've done a great job of cutting out the horrendous sound. Once the door was open, SV-98 advanced inside, Tiss close behind her. The inside of the crate was lit by a mottled pattern of shadows cast by the rusted holes in the roof, covering the wooden crates in a patchwork of light and dark.

_Please be ammunition, _Tiss hoped as SV-98 busted open the first crate. She let her breath out as brass glinted out from the box. SV-98 held the cartridge up to her face, inspecting it.

"Seven-six-two by fifty-four rimmed," said the blonde doll. "That's my cartridge. They might have SV-98s around here."

"Lucky you." OTs-12 cursed the rarity of her rifle and its ammunition. _At this rate, you would think I was defective._

Farther into the shipping container was crates of unused uniforms. Both of them tried on the fatigues, and luckily enough found some that fit well enough to keep. Female underwear was nonexistent, however, but Tiss was perfectly fine with any type of clothes.

"Look, now we're _real _Russians," SV-98 joked. "SV-98, reporting to the Chechen front as reported!"

_Don't even make jokes about that_, OTs-12 wanted to say, but had no way to communicate it. _We really need to work on a language of some sort._

By the time the two had exited the container, they were fairly well equipped with a partial set of Soviet Ratnik gear. OTs-12 had strapped on armored supportive greaves and a set of breastplate armor. SV-98 wore much the same.

"How'd the Russians even leave this gear unattended?" SV-98 pondered. OTs-12 stared at her for a second before attempting to mime someone leaving in a hurry, but gave up after a few moments.

The second building was much larger and appeared to be some sort of command structure. Numerous poorly preserved corpses were littered about in the lobby, and the two of them stepped over or around them with as much care as they could. OTs-12 felt much better once she had a rifle in her hands, so she led the way down the main hallway. Many of the doors swung open to reveal empty rooms, though yet more simply led down empty corridors.

"Tiss, ahead," said SV-98, pointed over OTs-12's shoulder towards the wall. A large hole was in the center of the wall, though OTs-12 could see nothing in it. "That's man-sized, and looks man_made_."

_A sniper hole?_ Tiss pondered. It did offer an excellent point from which to fire down the hallway. She raised her AK-15 and approached the hole. No fire came from within. The doll reached for her belt and pulled out the flashlight, turning it on and shining it into the impromptu hideout. Nothing was present but for a box of cartridges and a Mosin-Nagant. As SV-98 came up behind her, OTs-12 pointed at the rifle.

"_No_," said the doll, crossing her arms. "That thing is ancient."

OTs-12 shrugged in a gesture of _nothing better. _SV-98 curled her lip before reaching into the hole and seizing the rifle and cartridges.

The last room they searched was the command center proper. OTs-12 found it oddly familiar in layout, a large table in the center surrounded by numerous desks against the wall. It was admittedly a bit more tactile than a modern center, but dusty, gutted computer monitors were part of each desk.

"Maybe Sangvis looted this section for parts," SV-98 speculated. OTs-12 dearly hoped that they would not return to loot more – despite their weapons, neither of them was in any position to fight Sangvis troops at the moment. As SV-98 walked around the room, Tiss took a seat at the table, setting down the backpack she had picked up from one of the storage crates. The table was covered in several layers of maps and papers, all of which was in Cyrillic. _Soviet. Very old. _OTs-12 supposed that it was only old to her, and not to the humans who had abandoned the command center. _This must have been abandoned during Butterfly. _The event had come at a poor time for OTs-12, then a new recruit, making her much less enthusiastic about joining Griffin.

The doll picked up one sheaf of papers, studying the title. _Status report, 17/5/61, Major Bezpalov. _The entire stack was information from the same day: commissary inventory results,, range logs, patrol reports. OTs-12 set the papers aside and brushed off a layer of dust to reveal the map underneath. Though it was worn and faded from the sunlight, she could still make out the text and images. _Outpost, supply road, patrol paths… there. _OTs-12 ran her finger along a red-line path through the mapped forest, finding the icon marked as the forward operating base. She supposed that the other building in the compound must be the barracks.

"Mountain range is to the south, here," SV-98 said, pointing to one region of the map. OTs-12 reoriented herself based on that. The Griffin base coordinates were thankfully still in her memory, and now she compared them to those of the compound. She was shocked to find that they were over twenty miles from the base. Seizing a pen, she wrote out the distance to SV-98, who nodded slowly but said nothing.

"_Several days on foot through forest," _OTs-12 wrote, then began plotting a path on the table map.

"And that's assuming we won't need to avoid Sangvis elements in the area," SV-98 said. "We don't have a full echelon, so more likely than not we'll need to avoid them entirely."

_We could take some Sangvis brainlets, _OTs-12 wanted to believe, but she knew that her partner was right. Even they would have a hard time taking on full Sangvis patrols, at least without prior planning. The doll sighed. Everything would be exponentially harder now. They had no allies, out-of-date weapons they weren't etched to, half-complete sets of Ratnik gear, and a twenty-plus mile trek to friendly territory. They had found no radio in the search, so they couldn't even contact Griffin. Worst of all, they could have been compromised by their run-in with the Sangvis Ringleader. Neither of them had any way of knowing if they had Parapluie, so they simply hoped for the best. Both were silently aware of what would need to be done if it was shown that they did carry the deadly Sangvis Ferri virus.

SV-98 returned to the table with a smaller, portable map as well as an electric lamp and began copying OTs-12's route. She had also brought a couple scavenged binoculars, which OTs-12 added to her backpack. Their internal compasses would prove useful for navigation, though the GPS had been scrambled while in captivity.

Tiss set down her pencil and sat back in the chair. SV-98 had hauled herself up onto the table and sat on the edge swinging her legs. _Like a kid, _OTs-12 thought. The sniper had a cute face, and despite her attitude as a sniper she was quite young and innocent enough mentally. _The captivity seemed to humble her too. _Her sandy blonde hair had been tied back in a messy ponytail, and several strands hung forward around her face. Tiss stared at the other doll for a few minutes more before tearing herself away. Something more important needed to be done – a language.

As Tiss prowled about the command room searching for blank paper, she glanced out the window at the evening sky. The dark clouds formerly on the horizon now jostled for position right over their heads, and as she looked back to the ground she saw that it had begun to rain. First one drop, then another turned the gravel and dirt dark brown until everything started to turn to mud. OTs-12 found the paper in the drawer and went back to the table, tapping SV-98 on the shoulder.

"_Have you heard of sign language?" _she wrote. SV-98 nodded.

"A little, but I've never met someone who uses it."

_This will be difficult. _The sound of rain on the roof grew louder as, by the light of the lamp, OTs-12 began writing a new language.


	15. SuperSASS Chapter 6

It was raining. Fat drops of water fell about SASS, and despite her prone position underneath a significant amount of foliage, plenty of water reached the doll's otherwise dry hiding place. SASS praised the presence of mind of whatever IOP designer gave her a hood with the jacket, since it helped to keep her head dry. It certainly wouldn't pay to be distracted while sniping.

Even without the water impeding her vision, SASS knew that her job would be much more difficult than usual. It was the dead of night, and the only natural light SASS had to see by was the moon and stars. Thankfully, she had been granted a night-vision scope for the mission, something she was immeasurably relieved by. SASS was not entirely sure she had the skill to shoot straight without one.

"Comms check," Grizzly said over Zener.

"Here," said SASS.

"I copy," M590 grunted.

"I gotcha," Ingram said.

"Present!" said RFB.

"How much longer are we gonna be waiting around?" Ingram bemoaned. "It's been hours already – and this storm's gonna pick up any time."

"Until we get the go-ahead."

"I could be doing so much more," RFB added to the complaints.

"Zip it. SASS, Ingram, RFB, why don't you leave your dummies on a sentry setting and come to the clearing with M590 and me."

SASS peered down her scope. _Nothing._ Confident in the safety of the situation, she carefully backed out of the bush she was under and straightened up, making her way through the forest towards the tiny lamp Grizzly had set up.

"Why are we here?" Ingram said irritably. "I should be watching for Sangvis to kill."

"You can take a break," Grizzly replied, exasperated. "Look, I just wanted to give you guys something. A _present_, if you will." The doll reached for a backpack leaning against an ammo box, unzipping the pouch and reaching inside.

"Oh boy."

Grizzly grinned at the four before bringing her hand out with a flourish. In it was a clear plastic wrapper around a small loaf of sponge cake.

"Twinkies!" M590 said rather loudly, snatching it out of Grizzly's grasp and tearing it open. "Mm-mm, civilian food gives me the _munchies._"

"Twinkies?" RFB furrowed her brow.

"It's an old American sweet. Here, Ingram." Grizzly tossed another of the wrapped foods to Ingram, who scrutinized it carefully before ripping the wrapper off.

"Jesus! How can you eat something this sweet?" said the doll, nearly choking on the sweet.

"It's _so good_," said M590, already done with hers. RFB nibbled at it for a few seconds before taking a larger bite, humming in enjoyment.

"SASS?" asked Grizzly. SASS took a minute to savor her first bite, trying her best not to swallow the soft cake too quickly. _It really is super sweet. _

"I like it," she said, shrugging. Grizzly and M590 clearly seemed to appreciate the snack much more than the others, as both were already eating seconds or thirds.

"You can have the rest," Ingram said, tossing her half-eaten Twinkie at Grizzly and walking back into the forest. RFB crumpled the wrapper and threw it into Grizzly's lap as well before following suit.

"I guess they just can't appreciate fine cuisine," Grizzly said, smiling at SASS. _If you say so._

"It's been a while since I've had one of these." M590 sat back and sighed in contentment. "If only this night battle would go down as easy."

For a brief moment, all that could be heard was the patter of rain on leaves and equipment as the three dolls remembered their mission. SASS traced a finger along the rim of her scope.

"SASS," said Grizzly.

"Yes?"

The doll looked up at SuperSASS, any jollity gone from her face. "Can I trust you to do well on this mission?"

"O-of course!" said SASS, creasing her face in worry. _What does she think I am?_

"All right. Last time was kind of rough. I'll need you even more on this than I did last time, thanks to our circumstances, so trust me when I say that there's no room for side events like last time."

"Sure… But I can't decide what to do if Sangvis rushes me."

"Of course. But why did they rush you at all?"

SASS could see where the conversation was going. "If you mean to blame NTW-20's training for that–"

"I'm not," said Grizzly, folding her hands together. "But you need to make your own decisions sometimes, and not follow whatever suggestions your mentor makes."

"I was following _your _orders when the skirmishers rushed me."

Grizzly sighed. "If you say so. The point is, you have to make the right choices this time, and if you think you can, I trust you."

"Aye aye," SASS said. "I'll do my best."

"Great. Now get back to your post."

Traces of the Twinkie's sweetness remained in SASS's mouth as she made her way back to her sniping spot. It was a pronounced difference from the less flavorful food served in the cafeteria, much sweeter than everything else. SASS felt the same. Nearly everyone she knew was far more bitter than she, something she was reminded of every time Grizzly or M590 recounted one of their old stories. Even NTW-20, for all her kind words and enigmatic smiles, hid something behind her manner that SASS knew soured even the best doll's attitude.

At least their partners on the mission were nice enough. Since the deployment was occurring at night, Kerr had grouped them with Carnation Team, an echelon much more experienced with night operations. Mosin-Nagant and M1895 were especially friendly, though SASS noticed that T-5000 and Type 92 seemed more reluctant to talk. For her part K5 had been quite businesslike. "She wants this thing done quickly," Grizzly had confided in the other four after the two had talked. "K5's as impatient as the rest of us."

For one, SASS was content to wait. Grizzly's words and the convoy ambush had left her a tad shaken in confidence, and she hoped that she could prove herself more worthy in this battle than she had the last. _You did well_, she told herself. NTW-20 had said the same thing when SASS had told her about the battle.

"Movement from the outpost," T-5000 reported. SASS looked through the scope to see a squad of Vespids moving out into the rain, pacing around the outpost's entrance.

"Don't shoot," Grizzly reminded them.

"The Commander's given clearance to proceed with the next step of the mission," K5 said. "Is everyone in position?"

Every doll acknowledged their readiness over the radio. "Let's kick some Sangvis butt," Ingram growled. M1895 giggled.

"You sure are eager!"

_Of course she is, _SASS thought tiredly. She was around Ingram enough that M1985's innocent remark was more annoying than relatable.

"Right," said K5. "Snipers, open fire."

"I've got the left," said Mosin-Nagant.

"Center," SASS claimed.

"Right," grunted T-5000. In the rain, SASS's suppressed rifle was even less audible than usual. After a few follow-up shots, the Sangvis were all flat on the ground.

"Mosin, Type 92, stay behind and cover our backs. Everyone else, move up."

SASS saw her four squadmates emerge from the forest to her left as K5, M1895, and T-5000 moved up on her right. Since Carnation Team had no effective CQC dolls of its own, Grizzly Team would be handling the bulk of the room clearing. SASS stood back up and started down the hill after the others. Despite the slippery grass, she managed to keep her balance and made it down in no time.

"M590, take point," Grizzly ordered as SASS stepped onto the concrete outside the door.

"I'd rather RFB lead the breach," K5 objected.

"They're in my echelon. M590, let's go."

M590 moved fast, kicking down the door and entering, shotgun barrel swinging about. "Entryway clear!"

"Leave dummies outside, they'll only hinder us in close quarters," said K5.

They were raiding an old military installation that had been occupied by Sangvis. Type 81 had informed them that Kerr believed the installation was where Sangvis's surprise aircraft had originated, and tasked the two echelons with clearing the base and capturing any information present. SASS kept her eyes off of the faded Cyrillic lettering on the walls as the team moved through the interior.

It reminded her of Griffin's own base, if it were unmanaged and decrepit. Sangvis had done the bare minimum required to keep it running, so debris had been roughly shoved to the sides of the hallway, only leaving clearance for entry into the rooms.

"Grizzly, you, M590, and M1895 can split off. I'll take RFB and T-5000, and SASS can search with Ingram. If you need backup, just call out over Zener."

_Splendid. _Grizzly seemed irked, but merely twitched her eyebrows before M590 pulled her away, Nagant following behind. Ingram put her hands on her hips as she appraised SASS. "You're probably gonna be pretty useless here, so just stay behind me."

"I've actually been training in CQB," SASS said. "I'll cover for you while you clear."

"Well, I can't say I'm displeased." Ingram smirked in some expression of superiority that SASS found herself cringing at. "Just watch the pro. You may have a big knife, but it doesn't make you as good as me."

They moved off. Ingram wasted no time in pushing through the first door and bursting into the room as SASS moved into the doorway, raising her rifle.

"Naturally," Ingram groaned, lowering her gun. "A recharge station. I wanted to fight something…"

SASS looked around the room. All four walls had been covered with small recharging pods, each containing a Ripper-model Sangvis android. Every one of the purple-haired dolls hung loose in the pod, a thick cord plugged into the back of their head.

Gunshots echoed from outside the room. "And _of course_ they're the ones who get the fight." Ingram stared at the Sangvis dolls a moment longer before raising her gun.

"Wait, wait! Isn't it kind of wrong to shoot them like this?" SASS cautioned.

"No. Just easy prey. If Sangvis found us in recharge stations like this, they'd put plasma rounds through our heads before we ever woke up." Ingram squeezed the trigger, and a stream of bullets entered the Ripper. "Better get going, we need to move to the next room."

_What would NTW think of this? _SASS thought, turning around and raising her rifle. _She would say the same thing as Ingram._ The doll felt bad shooting the defenseless androids, but knew that Ingram was right in what she said, however bloodthirsty the doll may be.

Ingram made quick work of the SF in the next room, laying each out flat with a precise burst. "Grizzly, we've cleared another room, but it goes deeper."

"Keep going," Grizzly said over Zener. "K5 and I are nearly done out here, so we'll follow you when we're ready."

"Copy." Ingram released her empty magazine and took out a new one, sliding it into the gun. "SASS, you have a flashlight?"

"Yes."

"Shine it through that door."

SASS took the flashlight off her belt and turned it on, bringing it up to her shoulder and shining it over Ingram's head through the doorway. Sangvis had apparently failed to restore light to the second room.

"Pilot's ready room, going by the label near the door," Ingram said. "Definitely an old airfield."

SASS raised her flashlight and looked around. The room was in considerable disarray. Unlike the rest of the base, it was virtually untouched, only a single path of bootprints going through the room to the door on the other side. SASS figured that if the military abandoned an airbase in such a hurry, it must've been during the last world war.

"Ingram, SASS. K5's team is working on reaching the breaker panel to restore additional functionalities. What've you found?"

"A ready room," SASS said. "There's another door…"

With her free hand she pointed to the handle while looking at Ingram. The SMG doll tested the knob.

"It's open."

"Probably a hangar," Grizzly said, just as Ingram mouthed the same words. "Kerr said we need to determine if Sangvis is trying to appropriate more old military equipment, so head in and do just that. The storm sounds louder, so make it quick."

"Wilco. SASS out."

"There better be a boatload of Sangvis in here," Ingram said as she pushed all the way through the door, disappearing into the pitch blackness beyond. "I've been itching for a fight for hours, and none of those brainlets in the last room did it for me…"

Even in the darkness, SASS could feel the immensity of the hangar. The temperature dropped several degrees, and despite her jacket the doll shivered. Even the smallest shuffle on the concrete floor echoed about the chamber. The only other sound was the constant rattle of rain on the sheet metal roof of the hangar. "_Ingram,_" she said over Zener. "Please stay close."

"What, scared?" Ingram laughed aloud, her already unsettling laugh made ever more eerie in the otherwise silent hangar. "Look, you and I are good. We can handle whatever Sangvis throws at us – and what's dying anyhow? Just a little setback."

"Ingram–"

"Hell, I like dying! It's a thrill… and it only happens whenever I'm in the thick of it. I know when I'm about to get shot to death, and it means that I'm having the most fun I can!"

"Found the breaker panel," K5 burst in. M590's voice followed right after.

"SASS, Ingram, cover your ey–"

The hangar lights flared to life, blinding SASS in a flash of light moments before she pressed her hands to her face. Ingram groaned. "Goddamn K5, can't she be patient?"

_Weren't _you _impatient to get the mission started? _SASS wondered, opening her fingers a little to peek through. The light had revealed a jet in front of her, painted with dark woodland camouflage and a light grey underbelly. SASS squinted at the red star painted on the tail end, but found it hard to focus as her eyes adjusted to the light.

"Grizzly…"

"Sorry about the light, M590 tried to warn you."

"It's fine," SASS said. "Er, we found something. I think it's a jet."

Ingram had peered at the vehicle by now as well. "It is, Grizzly. Anybody here know models for Russian shit?"

"I'll identify it when I get there," said Grizzly. "In the meantime, explore the rest of the hangar. We'll be down there in a sec."

"Got it…" SASS said, still a little disoriented. "Ingram… do you think it's functional?"

"Well, it looks to be in pretty good condition. Especially for something left alone for, what, ten, twenty years? And it's Soviet. Stuff's built to last."

SASS's thoughts strayed back to the old Soviet base Griffin was operating out of. _Kerr would like it here. _She slowly lowered her hands from her eyes and approached the jet, Ingram close behind. The storm rumbled on outside.

"I can't see any sign of Sangvis modification," SASS said aloud. "But they've been here for a while, so why haven't they touched it?"

"Maybe…" Ingram walked around the fighter and looked down the length of the hangar. "Those look like aftermarket mods to me."

SASS went around the nose of the fighter, ducking under the autocannon to look. A row of the fighters stretched out before her, yet these were much different. They were all in various stages of retrofit, and the one farthest away had been entirely covered with purple-black plating and the cockpit sealed shut. The one closest to SASS and Ingram had its maintenance panels open and internals half-replaced.

"How the…"

"Storm's getting more intense," Mosin reported. "We won't be getting back to the Griffin outpost if you guys spend any more time in there."

"We'll need fifty pounds of explosives to blow these planes up at least," Ingram said. "Not to mention how much to bury all the Sangvis in this place. A day for demo ops, no less."

"Kerr will want it intact," SASS predicted. "She'd have a field day with all this tech and old Soviet military equipment."

Ingram sighed. "Whatever. We won't be on demolitions any-"

The lights _clunk_ed off, plunging the entire hangar into darkness. SASS immediately thumbed the flashlight on before swinging it around to find Ingram, who raised her hand to block the light.

"Shine that away, will you?"

"_Just get over here,_" SASS said, anxiety rising. "Grizzly…"

"We're in the hangar now," said Grizzly over Zener. "What happened to the power?"

"I… I don't know." SASS heard something scrape against concrete. "_Ingram!_"

"I didn't do anything."

Something thudded before a shrill creak of bending sheet metal reverberated around the hangar. Footsteps shuffled on the floor, approaching SASS and Ingram, who both tightened their grips and raised their guns.

"Now may be your chance for CQC," Ingram said. SASS hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she suspected it would. The doll could sense the movement getting closer, coming from her right. Slow, deliberate footsteps. _I won't die again. _Just as the pacing got as close as she could bear, SASS swung the rifle around and aimed down sights. Something struck the barrel and flung her aim off right before a swift kick to her stomach shoved her to the ground. "SASS!"

"Wait, wait, don't shoot!" Grizzly said. "It's me!"

"You scared the hell out of me," said Ingram. "Thought you were SF."

"I… yeah, I thought the same," said Grizzly, voice faltering. Several other sets of footsteps sounded on the floor as SASS got to her feet. "Sorry, SASS."

"She's just a bit high-strung," M590 finished for her. "We all are. K5, thoughts on those lights? Maybe a secondary power switch?"

"Likely," came the doll's peppy voice. "Or sabotage. The hangar isn't fully clear yet… you know, I had a feeling this was going to happen.."

"Wow!" said RFB. "This is just like in one of those _Resident Evil _games–"

"You aren't helping." Grizzly reasserted herself. "Everyone, flashlights or night vision on. Let's just progress towards the other end and try to find something to restore the power."

SASS only had to shine her flashlight around to see who else was here. In addition to all of Grizzly's team, K5 and T-5000 had joined them, M1895 likely watching their backs. They silently split into two groups flanking the row of fighters, stepping forward into the gloom. SASS swallowed. _Why must IOP program anxiety? _The rain picked up in volume momentarily, and just then she heard the squeal of shifting metal yet again. There was a row of windows at the very top of the expansive hangar doors, and as the rainclouds briefly parted, the moon's light shone through in a thin beam of light. SASS's eyes flitted back and forth at a ridiculous speed as she focused on every shifting shadow in the entire hangar, twitching her flashlight around to follow. Yet nothing showed itself. _Maybe the wind was bending the hangar door._

The clouds returned, and the hangar became dark again. "Nearly there," said Grizzly. "K5–"

"I'm on it," said the doll, all too loudly for SASS's liking. NTW-20 had never advised her on night missions like this, so she was in the dark on what to do. K5 seemed to pick up her pace, marching towards the hangar wall. SASS could only see her flashlight bobbing around crazily.

"_M590,_" Grizzly spoke over their echelon Zener, separate from K5. "Watch our back. Ingram, RFB, either side of her, five meters. SASS… with me."

SASS made her way over to Grizzly, anxiety growing from the team leader's orders. Zener had a habit of perfectly representing the transmitter's emotions, and she had felt a wave of nervosity from Grizzly.

"T-5000, shine your light here," K5 ordered. SASS saw the flashlight fall on an electrical box. K5 pulled the door open, revealing a mess of cables. "Damn Soviet jury rigging…"

"Watch it. Probably a lot of amps going through that, and I'm not too eager to test IOP electric dampening," Grizzly cautioned.

"I trust the cards." K5 flexed her fingers before reaching into the box, shifting around wires as fast as she could. SASS watched her for a second before Grizzly tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around.

"Clear?" asked her leader.

"Nothing," said Ingram. "Goddamnit, Sangvis! Come out!"

"My sector's clear!" reported RFB.

"Grizzly, I'm getting a Griffin IFF ping," M590 said. "It's not Nagant revolver's. This is… wrong."

SASS felt her core start to work overtime, boosting her alertness. Silently, a bolt of lightning struck outside, and the hangar was thrown into bright light, the parked jets throwing eerie shadows on the wall. "Grizzly!"

"I see it, I see it!" said the doll, just as the thunderclap arrived. "K5, I'd like some light…"

"Working on it," said K5. "Just be patient."

Ignoring the hypocritical jibe, Grizzly raised her gun. "Guys–"

"Still nothing," said RFB. SASS heard metal creak.

"Oh! I saw this in the card reading today," K5 muttered.

"Just stay calm," M590 said. "I'm clear."

Grizzly took a breath. "Ingram."

"I don't _see_ anything," said the doll. "But I feel it."

"Stop talking like that!" Grizzly spat. "Just give it to me straight!"

"Trust her." M590 was still calm. "Ingram, what it is it?"

"It's not leaving. It's watching. And there's an IFF tag, I see it too."

"K5!" shouted Grizzly. SASS felt her breath catch in her throat. She had seen something on the fighter's wing when the lightning struck, a shadow that shouldn't have been there. But their flashlights showed nothing. A fast mover, perhaps, or a fault in her optics. But Grizzly had seen it too, and Ingram sensed something, _and_ M590 saw the friendly IFF tag.

"The cards are right!" shouted K5, and something clunked into place. It remained dark, save for a brief flash of moonlight, quickly smothered again by the stormclouds. "What?! No!"

"Ingram–"

"It's coming!"

There was a final, ear-splitting creak before something slammed against the concrete and Ingram opened fire, orange fire sputtering from her gun. Everyone twisted and shined their flashlights where the doll was, trying to find her assailant. Ingram herself was dancing back, hardly able to stop moving, let alone reload.

"Shit, where is it?!" Grizzly said. Ingram threw her empty gun at her attacker, only for it to clatter to the ground fruitlessly.

"Ingram!" shouted M590. "Bring it over to us so we can see it!"

The emergency hangar lights were beginning to glow orange as they started up, old metal halide lamps with long warm up times. Still, SASS strained to see.

"I can't," said Ingram, not a trace of fear in her voice. "She's a quick one…"

SASS glimpsed a glimmer of metal as Ingram drew her knife. A black shadow of a figure was striking at her with precise punches and kicks, and only now did SASS understand just how close her friend was to being hit. Ingram laughed.

"Just try to land a blow!"

SASS heard the scratch of metal on metal as Ingram was lifted into the air. A long, black spike had grown out of her attacker's arm, impaling Ingram through her stomach and sticking out the back in a long, sharp point. Ingram grinned a wicked smile, reversing her grip on the knife and plunging it down.

A black hand rose to meet Ingram's, and the grin fell from the doll's face and was replaced with a mix of agony and frustration as her hand was torn off. "_No,_" intoned the black doll, and with a wrench of its arm it pulled the spike free of Ingram, whose lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

"Tiss!" shouted T-5000 from behind the wall covering the electrical panel. "It's Tiss!"

_Definitely not Tiss,_ thought SASS, raising her rifle. The lamps had gotten bright enough to see the enemy. It was like nothing SASS had ever seen before, all the way down to its glossy black exterior. But she knew that it had to be Sangvis. Why else would it be here?

"Identify yourself!" M590 yelled, shotgun at the ready.

"Are you kidding?!" said Grizzly. "We need to pump it full of lead and get the hell out of here!"

"OTs-12. Tiss. Yew," said the black doll. Grizzly's hand shook. "Team leader. AR-type T-doll, in service for–"

T-5000 dashed past SASS, lowering her rifle as she gazed up at the black doll, looking back at Grizzly. "It's Tiss's voice! It's her…"

"Step away from it," M590 said, her voice becoming urgent. "T-5000."

The black doll – the _Sangvis, _SASS knew – looked at the other for a split second longer before it struck, gripping T-5000 around her neck and lifting her off the ground.

"Tiss!" T-5000 choked.

"Oh," breathed Grizzly as T-5000's hands went to the Sangvis's forearm, searching for any release. "Just shoot!"

M590 was the first to fire, buck spewing forth from the gun's barrel to spall and ricochet off the Sangvis doll's armor plating . RFB and Grizzly pelted it with fire, and SASS raised her gun and pulled the trigger as fast as she could manage. Dropping T-5000, the Sangvis started stepping back, though it appeared only minimally affected by the gunfire. The red-haired sniper gasped for breath as she tried to crawl away from the Sangvis.

"Armor!" RFB shouted. "Grizzly-chan, we're not prepared for this!"

K5 rushed into the fight, handgun raised. The hangar lights had significantly brightened the hangar, and, like an insect running from light, the Sangvis seemed eager to get away from the Griffin dolls. _Insomuch that a doll with a mask for a face can seem eager,_ SASS thought. She reached for her magazine of AP ammunition and slid it into the magwell, releasing the bolt.

"Come on, hurry," K5 said, helping T-5000 up as she massaged her bruised throat. With one fluid motion, the Sangvis drew a large handgun from its hip, raising it and firing twice. Both of the dolls collapsed to the floor, coolant pumping from the neat holes in their heads.

Grizzly cursed violently, and SASS swore she saw an expression of shock flicker over M590's face before both dolls refocused their attacks. SASS took aim, finding the Sangvis's chest in her crosshairs, and squeezed the trigger. The black doll staggered as the AP round smacked into its torso, but stayed on its feet. SASS fired two more times, striking the Sangvis in its shoulder and stomach.

"That's my girl," said Grizzly, starting to grin. The Sangvis adjusted its aim and its mask looked straight to SASS before it fired, but this time the projectile was much slower, rolling to a halt right in the middle of the four dolls. "Grenade!"

They turned and ran. SASS bolted for the wall that covered the electrical console, sliding behind it and shielding her ears. She could only hope the sheet metal would work as protection from any shrapnel.

The grenade blew. The sheet metal shuddered under the impact of innumerable shards of metal, but SASS was lucky enough to feel no pain. Slowly, she raised her gun and peeked out around the corner, ready to fire if she saw the Sangvis again.

Grizzly groaned as she picked herself up off the ground, coolant dripping off of the back of her shirt. RFB had managed to take cover behind the nearest fighter, and came out relatively unscathed. M590 released her body shield from its formation and stood up.

"Grizzly!" SASS said, running over to inspect her team leader's back, which had several pieces of metal sticking out from the black leather.

"Don't worry about her, she'll be fine," grunted M590. Grizzly brushed off SASS's worried hands and walked over to M590.

"Where is it?"

"Gone." M590 pointed towards a broken window on the hangar door. "I saw it scale the door while we were distracted. Too far away by now, and impossible to track in the storm."

Grizzly turned her attention to the corpses of K5 and T-5000, which now sat in a puddle of coolant. "It killed them," she said. "That was quick and accurate, too. Large-caliber pistol."

"Advanced weapon. Armored, agile, combat adept," M590 continued. The two looked at each other.

"Ringleader."

"So soon?" RFB asked.

Grizzly chewed her lip as she holstered her handgun, saying nothing. _OTs-12. SV-98. We could have been MIA too._ Despite the now blazing light, SASS felt quite unsafe in the hangar.

"Mosin-Nagant, Type 92!" Grizzly said over comms. "Do you two copy?"

The storm produced some interference in the return transmission. "What the … in there? K5's dummies … down. Sangvis?"

"Yes. How's the storm? We need to get the hell out of here." Grizzly sounded especially on edge.

"It's clearing… ten, twenty minutes for the helicopter."

"It's gone," said M590, attempting to assuage Grizzly's fears. "We drove it off. _SASS _drove it off." She looked at SuperSASS and nodded. "Let's just… move on."

"This doesn't make sense." Grizzly pointed to T-5000. "She thought it was Tiss. It spoke with her… with her voice. And Ingram thought the same thing too, and you."

SASS walked past the two, towards Ingram's body. The doll's vibrant green eyes had faded to grey, but her muscles had locked in a death grip on her knife's handle. SASS wrenched it free. It was a heavy, black blade, carefully honed and perfectly balanced. Ingram knew a great deal more about it than SASS did about hers, she realized. "_We can handle whatever Sangvis throws at us."_ SASS took the sheath for the knife and shoved both into her belt. Ingram would thank her for it later. "_... it means I'm having the most fun I can!"_

Ingram's face was bent into an expression of fury and disappointment. She had been an excellent fighter, SASS realized. She herself would have been cut to pieces by the Sangvis, yet Ingram kept herself alive for far longer than many others would've. For all her boasting and fearlessness, however, she was still belly-up on the stained concrete floor of the hangar.

The other three had gathered around the Sangvis-modified jet, peering at its internals. SASS joined them, looking over RFB's head at the circuitry.

"These are Su-25s," Grizzly said knowledgeably. "Frogfoots, if NATO was still around. Sangvis is making them a bit more formidable than they were originally, though. Plasma munitions, artillery-grade explosives."

"Where are they making this stuff, though?" M590 asked. "These are modified Soviet bombs and missiles."

"Abandoned weapons depot." Grizzly shrugged, pulling aside the maintenance panel further. "Let's just… deactivate these…" She yanked on a set of wires, pulling them clean out of the jet and nearly falling over. "...until the techs get here."

"Classy," M590 said, crossing her arms and smirking. Grizzly tossed the wires in her face.

"Buzz off. SASS, RFB, get going! We're shutting this down!"


	16. StG44 Chapter 5

"Listen up, team. Kerr's assigned us on clearing duty in a five kilometer radius around this old Soviet military installation. Operations have been raised to threat level Shchuka following last night's events, so Zener only, scrambled radio frequencies if necessary."

The transport rattled as it passed over a bump in the road. StG gripped her rifle tighter. _Even her voice annoys me._ CBJ-MS, ever the cutest in her cute little coat and cute little boots. For all her diminutiveness, she made up for it personality and presence. StG felt the doll's eyes on her back ever since she walked into the dorm. _This is what Chrysanthemum Team is like._

Kerr had held a base-wide emergency briefing late at night, waking up half the base and having them dragged to the briefing room for the meeting. The presence of a Ringleader was already common knowledge, and StG had heard it from Kerr's mouth in the meeting before, but when it was openly said at the briefing, the doll knew it was for real. Threat level Shchuka meant that Sangvis was capable of organizing full-blown offensives and had increased responsiveness, so Chrysanthemum would need to be on the alert for Sangvis reinforcements during their clearing sweep.

_Not that we can't handle them_, thought the doll. There was a great excess of ordnance in the echelon: K11 carried around a crate's worth of antipersonnel grenades, Z-62 hefted a belt of incendiary grenades, Type 56-1 toted a pouch of rifle grenades, and StG prided herself on her grenade marksmanship, not to mention her self-made rifle modification so it might mount rifle grenades. All in all, they could crater any Sangvis company trying their luck against them.

This was far from the first clearing mission they had been sent on. Over the past two days, StG had accompanied the four others sweeping vast swathes of S17 to repel Sangvis probes and renew or expand established borders. StG came to understand that the value of expert dolls lay not in their skill, but their stamina. Even the simplest doll would be able to sweep a section, but to do it several times a day took quite some perseverance.

Luckily, StG had plenty.

"I was busy reading when Kerr called that meeting," Z-62 said from the driver's seat. "I'm looking forward to one night of rest, and _that_ happens."

"It was useful information." Type 56-1 ran a gloved finger along the edge of her bayonet subconsciously. She was the one StG44 liked the most out of them all. "We know what the Ringleader is, we know what it can do – like using Griffin signals."

"Maybe it only comes out at night," StG pondered. "That's why we didn't see it before."

"Wouldn't that make things difficult," grumbled Z-62.

"Nothing we can't handle." CBJ-MS crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall of the truck, unperturbed by the bumpy ride or new Ringleader. "Rose and Chamomile will take care of it. We'll be cleanup, if anything."

"Won't 44 over here handle the Ringleader?" said K11, prompting Sturmgewehr to look up, mildly irked. "Right?"

"Of course," the doll replied, her tone chill. _Just another piece of Sangvis trash._

K11 grinned a toothy smile of lunacy. "I knew it."

StG turned her eyes to see CBJ-MS staring at her, but the smaller doll quickly averted her gaze. She had been watching StG like a hawk ever since she joined the echelon, as if looking for a gap in her defenses. For all her attempted coolness and indifference, StG was made deeply uncomfortable by the doll's probing. _Perhaps it's how quiet it is._ FAMAS was at least obvious, and half the time she did it only to boast about her own skill. CBJ-MS merely watched. StG knew that she couldn't be kicked out of the echelon, since that would be a violation of Kerr's orders, so perhaps CBJ-MS was just looking for something to criticize. _I won't give you anything._

The truck rumbled to a halt. "We're here," Z-62 announced from the front, popping the door and climbing out of the cab. Type 56-1 was the first out the back, followed by StG, K11, and CBJ-MS.

"So… where are we?" asked K11.

"Checkpoint Anna," CBJ-MS said. "We're going to move north-by-east from here, which is right towards the last known location of the nearest Sangvis patrol."

"Sounds like lots of walking," said Z-62.

"What of it?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Type 56-1 asserted. "Mao did this sort of stuff on the Long March!"

"Could you shut up with that stuff? Let's just get moving and mop up these Sangvis so we can move on," Z-62 said. CBJ-MS nodded.

"Well said. Type 56-1, you're point."

The ground was soft and wet from the storm. StG was careful to avoid any particularly swampy parts of the forest floor, fearful that her heeled boots would be the catalyst for a bad fall. She was second to last in the convoy, Z-62 bringing up the rear. She turned around to see the doll scanning the forest for threats, her gaze resting on StG's face for just a moment before sliding away. The doll had added a sling to her namesake weapon, handing it off her shoulder as she walked. She was the only one in Chrysanthemum with the same IOP commercial star rating as StG, yet they were worlds apart. _Good in combat, anyway. _StG looked forward.

K11 was another matter entirely. The doll was what StG could only describe as criminally insane. Not only did she carry enough explosives to level an apartment building, but she had the personality of a crazed demolitions expert to match her arsenal. StG found it simply unbelievable that K11 was the superior doll. Everything about her got on the other's nerves. It was a painful reminder of StG44's inadequacy. _Blanketing the entire field in grenades hardly counts as skill._

StG saw Type 56-1's fist rise up into the air, and the small troop halted. "Sangvis ahead," the doll reported. Quickly and silently, the five dolls spread out into a line, moving towards the forest edge.

"Well, that's quite a few," Z-62 said mildly. StG estimated that there was about a platoon's worth of Sangvis dolls in the field in front of her. They were marching steadily, in a long, five-abreast column. "CBJ-MS?"

"StG and K11 can stay in the treeline to provide supporting fire and launch grenades towards concentrated enemy formations. The rest of us will keep them moving in the same direction and distracted from you two."

"Wouldn't it be better if we set up position further down the treeline and simply take them down at once?" StG suggested. "If everyone concentrates their firepower, we can take the column out easily."

"Negative. They're too tightly packed for that sort of fire, and it wouldn't matter in the long run how fast we do it. I'd rather we not come back missing dummies, especially on a milk run like this. If there're no further objections, let's get moving. You two, hold fire until I give the command."

StG ground her teeth. Stuck with K11, and CBJ-MS shooting down her suggestion once again. Over the past two days, every one of her objections to a plan had been dismissed out of hand or debunked by CBJ-MS. It was a dynamic she was wholly unused to: after all, the non-verbal bond shared by Hunter was something that CBJ-MS could only hope to achieve for her team.

As CBJ-MS and her cohort prepared to move, StG and K11 spread their dummies out along the treeline. It was quiet as the five prepared for action, checking magazines and readying ordnance. K11 pushed airburst grenades into her magazine before slotting it into the gun, aiming down at the Sangvis column.

"What makes me a good grenadier?" K11 had replied to StG's skepticism when they first met in the dormitory. "Well, if I were a bad grenadier, I wouldn't be sitting here discussing it with you now, would I?"

_If carpet bombing counts as being a good grenadier,_ StG thought. She was a proponent of quality over quantity, at least one thing she and FAMAS could agree on. Every spent cartridge from Hunter Squadron was a well-spent one. Some members of Chrysanthemum, on the other hand, seemed content to douse their enemies in lead and hope for the best. A foolproof plan, at least, though one that StG found rather crude.

"Go," said CBJ-MS, and in an instant she and Z-62 had cleared the forest and were running along the edge, firing at the back of the Sangvis formation as Type 56-1 remained in the tree cover, matching pace. Like a great wave, the column halted its forward movement and reversed direction, marching towards the Griffin dolls as the frontrunners raised their weapons and began returning fire. Both of the dolls were skilled enough to stay ahead of the enemies' aim. StG had to marvel at CBJ-MS's agility.

A rifle grenade arced out from Type 56-1's position, landing in the middle of the Sangvis vanguard and exploding in a brief flash and cloud of dust, laying out a dozen of the pale white androids flat on the ground, twitching in their death throes. _Good launch_, thought StG.

"Fire at will!" CBJ-MS ordered over Zener. K11 was the first to shoot, her grenade blowing away another section of the Sangvis formation. StG took aim and squeezed off shots at stragglers, felling them with a single bullet. Though a few of the Sangvis had taken note of their position, most were rushing away from it, following CBJ-MS and Z-62 as the two dolls led them off. For all their numbers, the SF dolls moved with surprising rapidity, rippling like a wave as they charged towards the Sangvis dolls. _Idiots,_ StG thought as she fitted a rifle grenade to her barrel.

Or, a trap. The Ringleader would set the dolls to an automated defense protocol, hoping for a less-experienced team to show up, and then take control of the troops and surprise the Griffin attackers with advanced tactics. StG boosted her radio range, hoping to pick up a Sangvis signal. Sangvis Ringleaders tended to emit certain radio frequencies that were part of their OGAS protocol, and if she detected a signal than it meant that her hunch was correct.

K11 laughed aloud as another explosion disrupted the Sangvis, who were now snaking back around as CBJ-MS doubled back. Their once ordered column had nearly dissolved into a teeming pass of the androids, and in their jumbled state they were unable to organize into any useful formation. StG let off her grenade and smiled to herself as it found its mark, blowing Sangvis left and right. Despite the ease of it all, it was extremely gratifying.

"They're trying to form up again," Z-62 said.

"Throw another grenade, keep them broken." CBJ-MS's gun was audible even over the discharges of Sangvis plasma rifles and StG's own fire, the rip of her submachine gun matching the row of Sangvis collapsing to the grass. K11 had also switched to firing off bursts as the Sangvis mass slowly grew closer to the forest edge.

StG had found no sign of a controlling OGAS protocol signal, so she upped the intensity, continuing to search every frequency for any sign of use. K11 let off another grenade, the explosion blasting StG's eardrums momentarily. The Sangvis were considerably thinned, but still tried to push through the cordon CBJ-MS and Z-62 had formed. Their efforts were stymied by Type 56-1, however, who put an end to any attempted escape.

_Positive result on the radio search._ StG's anxiety spiked as she checked to see what it had pulled up. _Two Griffin signals._ What were dolls doing so far out here, and only two of them? There were no authorized excursions, and any activity not directly ordered by Commander Kerr was prohibited. _And we're at Shchuka. They'll be on KP for the next month._

"CBJ-MS–"

"Not now!" replied the doll. "Keep those Sangvis away from that forest, we're not losing any of them in the trees!"

StG redoubled her efforts, slotting any Sangvis frontrunners firing on her position or trying to reach the forest. The two submachine guns worked in even closer, engaging the Sangvis at close range as Type 56-1 mopped up remains. Less than a hundred SF dolls remained. _Easy prey_, StG thought. It had taken them less than half an hour to do the job.

As the enemy group got smaller and smaller, StG stood and stepped out of the forest, continuing to fire. The Sangvis were too preoccupied with trying to survive and escape that barely any fired at StG, those that did missed. Switching to automatic fire, she cut down any Sangvis shooting at her as quickly as she could pull the trigger.

A shockwave knocked her sideways, but StG was able to keep her footing, using the momentum to launch the butt of her stock into a Vespid's chest, knocking the doll over and giving her time to put a round through its skull. K11 had fired another grenade, completely disregarding StG's safety. _At least the Sangvis bodies absorbed the shrapnel._ To her right, Type 56-1's gun _chunk_ed as she fired into the rapidly thinning Sangvis ranks.

Z-62 raised her gun to her shoulder and put down a still-struggling Ripper as the other three gathered amongst the corpses, K11 emerging from the forest. CBJ-MS looked down at the ground as her lieutenant spoke. "You left your position, Sturmgewehr."

The doll let her rifle rest on its shoulder sling as she looked up at Z-62. "I felt the need to finish the battle quicker. If anything, you should be reprimanding K11 for continuing to use her grenades when I was within the effective range. CBJ-MS–"

"You're right in mentioning K11, but had you remained in your ordered position the danger would never had been present in the first place," Z-62 interrupted. "K11 acts without acknowledging risk, but you do as well."

"Had you done so earlier, it might have endangered the success of the plan," Type 56-1 added. "Obedience _is _key to effective tactics."

StG looked to CBJ-MS, who continued to look away and remain silent. "Don't talk to me like you have the high ground. There was no risk to the success of the mission at that point, why does it matter?"

"Because such behavior can escalate in scale until you get someone killed!" Z-62 said, a flicker of annoyance crossing her otherwise taciturn face. "No wonder you aren't in a mainline echelon if you can't even figure that out."

"That's enough," said CBJ-MS. "Sturmgewehr, your actions were insubordinate and out of line. Do so again and I will have to take disciplinary action."

_You're not Kerr. _StG forced herself to swallow a retort. "I understand. I did have something to say."

CBJ-MS looked up at StG for a moment, staring her directly in the eyes. "What?" she offered after a moment's pause.

"During the battle, I scanned for Ringleader OGAS radio signals in case the battle was a trap. What I found instead were two Griffin IFF signals." StG checked to make sure they were still present. "Maybe…"

"Impossible," said Z-62. "How the hell would two Griffin dolls be out here without us knowing, or at all?"

"Maybe it's some sort of spec ops team," K11 offered. "You know, like AR Team? Man, I'd love to meet SOPMOD II."

"I'm sure you'd get along well," Type 56-1 said dryly, turning to CBJ-MS. "Gonna call this one in?"

"...yeah." The team leader reached for her radio and turned it on. "Throne, this is Chrysanthemum actual. We've picked up friendly… Two friendly IFF tags near our location, unknown dolls. What do you advise, over?"

Whatever the response was, it was long, or long in the making. CBJ-MS covered her ear to better hear through the earpiece, turning away from the others.

"If it's Parapluie, I'm running," K11 said. "I'm not joining SF."

"It's not Parapluie. OGAS protocol disables your IFF tag when it takes over," Z-62 explained.

"Give me some other explanation, then…"

"...incorrect signal?" CBJ-MS asked the command center.

"Look, if it is Parapluie, we slot them and move on," said Type 56-1.

"I just don't like the prospect of shooting our own dolls," Z-62 confessed.

"...but there's two of them..." said CBJ-MS.

"I'll do it," StG44 offered. CBJ-MS turned around.

"We've been authorized to find the source of those two IFF tags and return it to base, if possible. Throne has taken our signal and trilaterated it. It's fairly close, only a few klicks away. Let's see what dolls have the nerve to head outside at a time like this, eh? Back to the Tigr."

They returned to the truck and piled in, Z-62 once again taking up the driver's seat and CBJ-MS joining her in the cab. A trailer had been attached to the vehicle to transport their dummies, and the clones returned to their transportation pods now, folding up into neat, compact packages. Z-62 pulled away, turning on the vehicle's tracker as her team leader plugged in the IFF tag coordinates.

"To be honest, I kinda thought you were just gonna be extra muscle," K11 joked to StG. "Good job on the detective work, though."

StG kept quiet. It was empty praise to her, tainted by K11's poor standing in her eyes. Just the muscle? _You misunderstand me. _It wasn't the worst thing she'd been called, at least.

"Who's she? Fodder?" FAMAS had said when they first met.

"She's _our new member_," NTW-20 replied forcefully. FAMAS looked down her nose at the blonde doll.

"Well, the Commander better know what she's doing to send someone like her down here. She looks like a kicked puppy, you know?"

"Hey, she's the same IOP commercial rating as me," Tokarev put in. "She'll do fine."

"If she does her job well, that's all that matters," said Type 79, and so did CBJ-MS.

"But can she keep up?" Type 56-1 had said. "I mean, spec ops does things differently."

"It's a temporary assignment, she'll be fine," said Z-62.

"She's got grenades, so she's gotta be good." K11 grinned devilishly at StG, who gave a disdainful gaze. Chrysanthemum's dorm had felt quite claustrophobic.

"We're nearly here," Z-62 said from the front seat, dragging StG back to the present. CBJ-MS turned around to address the other three.

"We'll be able to track their IFF signals within metres, so there's no need for dummies on this search. Just keep scanners active, this shouldn't take long."

StG kept her rifle in both hands as she stepped off the truck. They had stopped on the road in the middle of the forest, as close to the signals as they could get. "Did Throne offer any drone feed?"

"_Nej_," said CBJ-MS. "Not high enough priority, nor enough time to get one in the air."

Type 56-1 took point again, leading the five into the woods. The canopy was thick enough that only small amounts of light made it to the floor, mottling the wood and leaves with sunlight. It was quiet as they plodded through the undergrowth, but every crack of a leaf or snap of a twig tested StG's patience.

"Warning sign," said Z-62, pointing to a tall placard with flaking yellow paint that warned all trespassers away from what lay ahead.

"Soviet, and very old. Maybe some sort of abandoned base ahead," StG suggested. CBJ-MS looked up.

"Stop right there." CBJ-MS blinked, accessing her intelligence database. Certain high-ranking dolls were granted access to the S17 information database without needing to ask permission, she was one of them. "We… may not be finding a Griffin doll."

"I beg your pardon?" said Z-62, speaking for the others. "What do you mean?"

"The team that encountered the Ringleader last… it had a Griffin doll's signature. Authentic, it tricked the dolls there. That was in an unsecured Soviet installation… maybe this is full of Sangvis too."

"So, you're saying that this is a trap_._" Z-62 looked skeptical. "This is above my pay grade. _All_ our pay grades."

"Not all," said Type 56-1, and everyone looked at StG44.

"It's Sangvis. We're paid to stop Sangvis." CBJ-MS looked at each of them. "We can do this. We aren't the top general ops echelon for nothing. _If _there's a Ringleader in there, we'll kill it, collect a bonus, and be done with it."

"That's a rousing speech, but I think we're a little over our heads on this one," said Type 56-1. "We're not AR Team. This isn't a fight we can just jump into like that."

CBJ-MS took a breath. "Right. Yeah. Sturmgewehr?" The doll looked up, not expecting to be called upon. "What do you advise?"

StG stopped a derisive laugh. _How funny._ "I don't know everyone's full combat ability, but we have the ordnance, if not skill, to at least retreat. I would not advise taking on a Ringleader in close quarters, without all our dummy links."

"I can live with those odds. Z-62, lead on."

They came upon the gate to the Soviet base only a short walk later, hinges rusted and chain pulled tight. Type 56-1 yanked the links apart and pushed the gate in, ear-splitting screech echoing around the empty forest. "Well, they'll know we're here now."

"Hey, those are T-80s," K11 said, pointing to the row of disabled tanks against the far end of the fence. "This is probably one of those bases abandoned and forgotten during the war."

"Everything was," said CBJ-MS as the five walked past one of the compound buildings.

"Too bad the government doesn't let Griffin salv– Sangvis!"

The five threw their weapons up as StG glimpsed several Prowler legs sticking out from behind a wall.

"...they're dead," said K11, disappointed. The Prowlers had been neatly lined up against the wall, and several seemed to have been torn open. "Something got to them."

"Say, didn't you say that SV-98 was missing parts when you found the corpse?" Type 56-1 asked StG.

"Yes."

"So maybe…"

"Ringleader cannibalizing its own troops for self-modification?" proposed Z-62. "Grisly. Would Sangvis protocol even allow that?"

"We don't know a lot about it, so it's very possible," said CBJ-MS. K11 approached the Prowlers, probing the dead bots with the barrel of her rifle. "Careful, any SF tech can–"

"–transmit Parapluie. I'm not that careless," K11 said. "So, Ringleader's definitely here."

"Pretty much," agreed Z-62. "I say we retreat and blow the site up from the air. It's the only way to be sure."

"We're going in," said CBJ-MS. "StG, sweep that building. K11, take that one, Type 56-1, the third there. Z-62, with me, we'll cover the rest of the grounds."

StG pushed open the door to the building. The inside was sparsely illuminated by grimy windows, half of which were broken by poor weather or intrusion. At least there was no spilt coolant, which meant that a doll had not been one to break in. Certainly not one with synthetic skin, though StG knew no doll that lacked it to begin with.

It smelled old. Damp wood, mold, animal droppings, and the faintest traces of nitrocellulose reached StG's olfactory sensors as she stepped through the hallway, broken glass snapping underfoot. The doll looked at the IFF tag tracker. The two tags were near, just a turn to the left. StG peeked around the corner with her rifle. _Clear._ The Sangvis Prowlers outside seemed to have been a fluke.

The door at the far end of the hall was closed. StG stepped towards it, holding her rifle steady with one hand as she reached for the knob with the other. It was dead silent in the building – _maybe the Ringleader isn't here._ With a single quick twist of her hand, she opened the door and shoved it in, bursting into the room.

A single Prowler sat on the floor, half-disassembled. StG looked around the rest of the room before approaching it. The entire side panel had been taken off, with numerous wires dangling loose from their original place. More coolant had collected in a pool on the ground, in which rested two small RFID tags, just like the one StG had inside herself. The pill-shaped tags had obviously been torn out of some dolls' bodies. StG knelt down by the coolant, scanning the tags.

"CBJ-MS, I've found them. The tags."

"...what do you mean 'the tags'?"

The doll carefully picked one out of the pool, red coolant staining the tips of her gloves. "They've been torn out. It's… OTs-12, and SV-98."


	17. SuperSASS Chapter 7

The seal on the construction bay broke with a hiss, the doors sliding open with a mechanical groan. Pungent smells of coolant, plastic, and metal drifted on the breeze to SASS's nose, nearly making her choke from shortness of breath as the odor filled her lungs. For all the things she'd learned to handle, the smell of the factory was one SASS knew she would never be able to tolerate.

Behind her, the clamor of the factory floor was assaulting her ears as the stench assaulted her nose. Forklifts ferried around crates of parts and boxes of fresh clothes to wherever they were needed, while squads of human personnel worked to offload material and assist freshly made dolls in getting ready to join or rejoin S17.

One such human was standing by the construction bay as the doors opened, dressed in a green jumpsuit and black boots. She put her hands on her hips as she watched the depressurization process finish, taking periodic glances at the control panel for any irregularities.

"Construction complete. Please clear the immediate area," reported the automated factory announcement system. All members of the audience stepped behind the yellow striped line. _Could this be any more melodramatic?_ SASS wondered as footsteps echoed from inside the construction chamber.

"If it's the Commander's orders, than I, Ingram, would be delighted to serve."

"Wow, that's really…"

"Cringe?" RFB finished Grizzly's sentence. "Definitely not an epic gamer moment. She's naked!"

"I just need to get the stored Digimind back into her memory and it'll all be back to normal," said the technician, dragging out a cable over to Ingram, who looked at her funny. The tech jacked the cable into Ingram's external access port and returned to the console, starting the data transfer process.

"It's weird seeing her naked," continued RFB. "It's indecent."

"Heh, M590 knows a lot about seeing people naked," Grizzly joked, poking the doll in the side with her elbow. "Get used to it."

"She gets those scars pre-made?" asked SASS.

"Yeah. Ingram likes to keep mementos of her fights," replied M590. "She and a few other dolls. It's weird, but doesn't actually impede performance. And it does look cool."

SASS looked away from the naked doll. It was nothing she hadn't seen before, but something was different with her teammate. Maybe it was the scars. Maybe it was because she had been dead eighteen hours ago. Another attendant arrived with a pile of clothes, the same outfit as before. "Remember how that one old commander makes his dolls wear full combat gear?" Grizzly asked M590.

"Yeah. Nice and all, I don't really think it does much in the long run. It's not like it offers extra protection. And Ratnik stuff – I mean full gear – is so expensive, Griffin wouldn't bother equipping a base as big as this with it. Maybe a spec ops team. I think AR Team had more standard stuff."

"Yeah. I'm good with my clothes," Grizzly said.

"All done," said the tech, just as Ingram finished getting dressed. "Let's see how it works."

Grizzly cupped her hands around her mouth. "Ingram! Say something!"

"Recitation: I am Ingram, IOP doll and master of combat. I will remove any enemy you wish to see destroyed."

"Nice," said Grizzly.

"Wait a second–"

"Quiet, RFB."

"Did we win?" Ingram asked, grinning.

"You bet your ass we did!" Grizzly smiled back. "SASS over here was the one who landed the shots that drove it off."

SASS blushed. "It was nothing…"

"It smashed through the hangar window," M590 clarified. "Even SASS's AP rounds had little permanent effect. But, we know there's a Ringleader now."

"Great, so we can kick its ass." Ingram placed her fists on her hips. "When're we going out again?"

"Er… pending, Kerr's given us a brief break," Grizzly said. Ingram huffed, stepping across the yellow line.

"Woah, hey, we haven't even checked motor calibration yet!" shouted the technician, walking over to Ingram with her hands on her hips. She was quite tall compared to the dolls, and they all looked up a little as she approached.

"And who the hell are you?" asked Ingram, looking extra petulant.

"IOP technician Macek, and I'm the only one stopping you from leaving this factory floor, so I'd watch your tone, young lady."

Grizzly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a guffaw as Ingram fumed at the technician, eye twitching all the time. "Miss, I apologize for her behavior," Grizzly managed. "If you would…"

Macek adopted a look of contemplation. "I don't know if I should… I mean, Kerr doesn't like dolls with lip, does she?"

"She's fine with this one…"

"Surprising." The factory floor supervisor gave Ingram a pat on the shoulder, which the doll appeared quite upset by. "Well, I guess I have to give her the all-clear. Just don't get yourself killed again, all right?"

"Kiss my ass," Ingram muttered as she rejoined her team members, rubbing the shoulder Macek patted.

"Language!" said M590.

"Grizzly swears like a sailor, and I can't get away with a little vulgarity?" Ingram looked more hurt at that than she did at anything the technician had done.

"Accept the double standard," smiled M590, and they started walking across the factory floor towards the exit. Eight construction bays were located in the immense excavated cavern, plus tens of thousands of square feet of storage space for materials, power generation, technicians' offices, the vast network of computer banks required to run the center and store doll blueprints, administrative offices, and machine storage. All of it was beneath thousands of meters of rock, and it was one of the new S17 constructions, since a great deal of the base interior was from the original Soviet structure.

"So… how did I die?" Ingram asked. Grizzly handed her the combat recorder.

"Sangvis Ringleader stuck you through the chest with some sort of melee arm extension. You survived for, what, 45 seconds?"

"30," said M590, keeping a straight face. _It was 47_, thought SASS.

"Aw, really?" pouted Ingram. "That's impossible. Nobody could defeat me that fast!"

"This one could," said Grizzly, getting serious. "It shot K5 and T-5000, it's armored, and it was using Griffin IFF tags. Not to mention the fact that we barely noticed it until it was right on top of us, and we moved through that hangar top to bottom."

"So then what's the game plan?"

"We don't have one," said M590. Ingram looked dejected. "Kerr just briefed the base on the situation last night, and everyone's standing by waiting for orders."

They arrived at the weapons station. "Ingram MAC-10, DWID 18," said the eponymous doll. The doll manning the counter, G3, nodded and punched the weapon ID into the console. Behind her, the automated retrieval rack went to work, bringing up the gun from storage.

"Here you are," she said, setting the weapon and extra magazines on the counter. Ingram quickly retrieved the items.

"Where's my knife?"

"Oh, I have it," said SASS, reaching into one of her pockets for the knife and sheath. Ingram raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Why do _you _have that?"

_She doesn't remember_, SASS reminded herself, suddenly quite dejected. For all her bloodthirsty comments, Ingram had been rather endearing before her death. _...it means I'm having the most fun I can…_ She had become rather attached to the doll. "I just happened to pick it up, I guess," she lied. Ingram shrugged and took it from her hands, clipping the sheath back on her belt.

"I'll take the combat recorder later. What're we doing now?"

"Well… I don't know," said Grizzly. "We don't have any job right now. Kerr's just… let it go, I guess."

"A free day!" proclaimed RFB. "Time to finish all my placement matches!"

As they walked through the immense blast doors, Grizzly dropped back and matched pace with SASS. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," said SASS. In truth, she was dog tired. They had returned to the base so early in the morning it could still be called nighttime, drenched and battle-weary. K5, T-5000, and Ingram's corpses had been taken with them for forensic analysis, ferried off the helicopter the moment the set down. Type 81 had been waiting for them upon their arrival, hands clasped together behind her back.

"Good grief," Grizzly had muttered while climbing out of the helicopter. "Not now…"

"Grizzly, I am to escort you to Commander Kerr," said Type 81, smiling serenely. Grizzly looked at M590 for help, but the shotgun doll merely shrugged.

"Uh, when? In the morning?"

"You are to come to the command center as soon as possible."

"How long will it take?"

Type 81 tilted her head a little to the side in askance. "As long as necessary."

Grizzly sniffed, the concrete under her dark from the rainwater dripping off her jacket. "Right. Well, I guess I'll follow you."

"Thank you for your cooperation," smiled Type 81, leading Grizzly out of the hangar. She and the other three would stay separated until a few hours later.

"Talked to NTW-20 much?" asked Grizzly. SASS shrugged.

"We aren't meeting as often as we used to. She said I was doing good on my own, and she had her own business to deal with. I do need to talk to her tonight, though…"

"About?"

"Uh… the plan for the next few weeks," SASS lied. In truth, she wanted to ask NTW-20 to accompany her to the performance tonight. She had checked the online event schedule – surprisingly full of dates, considering Kerr's policies – and saw that M1919A4's show was tonight in the café. It couldn't be a better opportunity for SASS: she could both catch up with NTW-20, make mention of her performance in last night's battle, and bring her to the performance. For all of SASS's humbleness, she felt rather proud of herself for coming up with the plan. _How could she refuse?_

"Right," said Grizzly. SASS smirked to herself. _This'll be a good night._

They stepped into the large elevator that would take them to the main base. M590 folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall. "I'll be glad when this whole scenario is over. Shchuka, dead dolls, and a new Ringleader are the last things I wanted this weekend."

"It won't affect us too much," said Grizzly. "Just some tighter security measures. We probably won't even be called in to deal with the Ringleader, since a bunch of us can't even load AP ammunition. Rose and Chamomile will handle them, maybe Cornflower."

"True enough."

The elevator reached the main floor and its heavy doors opened to reveal the bustling main atrium. RFB had barely taken a step onto the stone floor before arresting her movement and falling in step with the others. "Look!"

"It's the Commander," M590 said tersely, and she and Grizzly glanced at each other before walking out of the elevator. SASS kept pace beside them, scanning the floor. It wasn't hard to find Kerr, the only human wearing the distinctive Griffin trenchcoat. She was marching across the floor from the direction of the command wing, heading straight for the freight elevator. Behind and to her sides were Bren and M1014, while Type 81 walked immediately to her right. "Just keep walking."

"Talk to me," Grizzly muttered.

"What?" said M590, looking at Grizzly in askance. "I don't get what you–"

"I don't want her to talk to me!"

"She's not going to talk to you, for–"

"Look, it's possible–"

"Ingram," said Kerr as she drew closer. SASS turned her gaze towards the Commander, taking in her older visage. Despite her braided grey hair and lines of age creasing her face, Kerr exuded authority, from her confident stride to the steely-eyed gaze that rested on SASS's face for the briefest of moments. The doll quickly turned her eyes front.

"Ma'am," said Ingram, raising a hand as Kerr stepped past. In a moment, the two groups had left conversation range as Kerr and her cohort stepped into the elevator.

"What was that?!" Grizzly said.

"Kerr _does_ like Ingram." M590 shrugged. "She did talk to you this morning, after all."

"Well, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Wow," said RFB. "She's so…"

"Robotic. Isn't it sort of ironic?" jeered Grizzly.

"That's enough." M590 briefly rested her hands on Grizzly's shoulder as they approached the dormitory entrance.

"Where's NTW-20's dorm?" Grizzly asked SASS.

"I dunno… I'll go ask the desk."

"Well, I'll see you back at the dorm. Don't hang around that place too much, alright? There are some weird dolls in that echelon."

"I got it," said SASS, splitting off from the others as she headed for the reception desk. Grizzly was remarkably parental for someone of her attitude, though SASS had to admit that she didn't really mind it. She needed a little bit of guidance.

She approached the counter, which was built into the stone wall of the habitation wing entrance. The white-haired doll manning the desk, Kar98K, twisted around to face SASS as she approached. "How can I help you, miss?"

"I'm looking for NTW-20's dormitory," said SASS. She hoped it wasn't classified like other parts of Hunter Squadron, though she wondered why something as trivial as living quarters would be subject to such a restriction. Kar98K furrowed her brow, but typed up the name in her computer.

"That's room 141," the doll said.

"Thank you," SASS said hurriedly, turning away and heading down the hallway. _141\. _The doll re-tied her blue ribbon, careful to keep her hair from becoming too messy. It occurred to SASS that she ought to button her sweater, so she did that too, then reached behind her and ran her hands down her hair to neaten it. _Don't hang around that place too much, alright?_ SASS shook her head. She wouldn't even step a foot into it.

The door stood in front of her. SASS raised a hand and tapped her knuckles against it. From behind the door, she could hear the blare of horns and _rat-tat_ting of drums before the lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a green-haired, red-clothed doll.

"You're not 44," said the doll.

"Er, no…" SASS replied awkwardly, suddenly starting to feel very anxious. _What did she want?_ The doll turned around. "NTW! Visitor!"

Behind her, Tokarev was dancing around the common room with herself, singing a tune along with the music all the while. SASS furrowed her brow as she attempted to make out the words.

_Ждут победы России святые._

_Отзовись, православная рать!_

_Где Илья твой и где твой Добрыня?_

"Coming!" NTW-20's voice echoed from the back before she appeared from the kitchen and strode up. FAMAS stepped back into the living room as NTW-20 leaned against the doorjamb. "SASS?"

"S-senpai," SASS replied, suddenly caught up in her nervosity.

"...can I help you?" NTW-20 asked.

_Do it!_ "Uh, I w-wanted to ask if you wanted to go to M1919A4's show… with me… I'm not doing anything tonight, so if you're free…"

NTW-20 said nothing for a moment. _Maybe she's trying to figure out how to let me down gently,_ SASS thought. It was a dumb idea, now that she thought about it. She should've just asked Grizzly and M590 if they wanted to go with her, or gone alone.

"Yeah, sure. I'll go get ready. Why don't you come inside?" NTW-20 smiled before she turned around and walked into the living room, SASS standing in shock for a moment before following. "You met Tokarev a while back, but this is FAMAS and Type 79. Girls, this is SASS."

"Yo," said said the brown-haired doll, looking up from a book. "Tokarev, can you turn down the music?"

"Sure," replied the Russian doll, prancing over to the stereo and twisting the knob.

"You were on the hilltop," said the green-haired doll. "How was Grizzly?"

"Er, she was fine…" SASS was a little confused. "Not the first time, I think."

"Right, right."

"So how long have you been in S17 for?" Type 79 asked, setting down her book and looking at SASS.

"Ah… well, probably about two months. But I was in Griffin way before, in S09."

FAMAS snorted. "S09? What was that like?"

"Hey, it's not too bad," said Tokarev, breaking off from her singing. "The dolls may be a little unruly, but…"

"But the Commander's a horny pushover, half the sector's in complete disrepair, it's one of the most important sectors anyone can command, and all of our problem dolls come from that sector," said FAMAS. "No offense, SASS."

"I-I wasn't involved in that stuff," said SASS, thinking of Ingram.

"Are you just saying that because of _her_?" Type 79 said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at FAMAS.

"Of course I am. She's the biggest problem doll on base from that sector."

"Hey, be nice," said Tokarev. SASS had little idea of who they could be referring to, but given how much it mirrored Grizzly and M590's conversation before the last mission, she could take a guess.

"So, heard much about the new Ringleader?" FAMAS asked conspiratorially.

"Actually, I met it last night," said SASS. FAMAS's playful grin dropped, and the three members of Hunter in the room leaned closer to SASS.

"What do you mean 'I met it'?"

"We were clearing an old Soviet airbase and trying to restore the power when we… when we found a Griffin signal. But it attacked us, and killed Ingram after a fight. And… it talked like a Griffin doll. Like one of the dolls lost in the forest a couple weeks ago. It shot T-5000 and K5 before we could drive it off."

"Signal emulation? Voice changing?" FAMAS licked her lips. "That's… new."

Tokarev chewed her lip. "That doesn't sound easy, FAMAS."

"We'll handle it. We always do."

"We'll see," said Type 79 vaguely.

One of the bedroom doors opened and NTW-20 emerged. She had only brushed her hair and removed her kneepads, but SASS thought it meant everything.

"How do I look?" asked the pink-haired doll.

"Pretty," SASS murmured.

"So what are you going to again?" FAMAS asked. NTW-20 looked to SASS for an answer.

"M1919A4's band, or something. I don't really know what she plays."

"I heard BAR's in that band," Type 79 said. "It can't be anything too contemporary, if that's any indication."

"Well, we'll just find out, won't we?" NTW-20 said. "SASS?" Quick as a flash, SASS was at NTW-20's side. "You three, don't invite anyone over past curfew again, and Tokarev, I don't want a noise complaint. I'll talk to you about strategy when I get back, whenever that is."

"You got it," said FAMAS, leaning back into her seat. NTW-20 made for the exit, SASS close behind.

"Thank you for the compliment," NTW-20 said once the door was closed. "You look nice too. What's with the buttoned jacket?"

"Oh, I thought it would be better," said SASS, placing a hand over the front of her jacket. "Do you not like it?"

"It's fine," said NTW-20, smiling. "How was your mission last night? Besides meeting the Ringleader, of course."

"It was… fine." SASS had to think about what else had happened, her thoughts straying to Ingram's impalement on the Sangvis's spike. "Sangvis was modifying a bunch of old Soviet planes for their own use. I… shot some Rippers that were in the middle of recharging."

"Lucky," said NTW-20. "Really cuts down on work when they're right there like that. And it's easier to stab them, in my case."

"Yeah," SASS agreed halfheartedly.

"Yeah."

"Senpai?"

"Yes?"

SASS folder her hands and brought them up to her mouth. "Er… thank you for all the help you've given me. I've never had a teacher before, and, um, you've done a great job."

"Ah. Well. Thank you." To SASS's surprise, NTW-20 seemed to stumble over her words a little as well. "I try."

SASS fidgeted with her hands as they walked in silence for the rest of the trip. As they approached the café, NTW-20 stepped forward and pulled the door open. "After you."

**Readers,**

**No, there are not three new chapters, only SuperSASS Chapter 6 is new (chapter 7 is the old chapter 6). This is because I forgot to upload the ACTUAL chapter 6 before the fifth StG44 chapter, so anyone reading that chapter and the SuperSASS one after it may have been confused because everyone was talking about the Ringleader. The NEW Chapter 6 is the missing chapter and reading it should help make everything after it more clear.**

**Thank you!**


	18. The Show

The café was quiet.

Springfield stowed her cleaning rag underneath the counter, satisfied with the state of her bar. At the band's request, she had made numerous changes to the premise: first, the booths on the back wall were shifted aside for a stage, then the tables were rearranged so all the seats faced that wall, then the lights were dimmed to add atmosphere. For someone of her disposition, BAR had been quite particular about this show. Springfield guessed that M1919A4 was rubbing off on her.

The diminutive doll was busy arranging her drum kit, reaching about and trying her best to set it the way she wanted. Springfield watched her move the snare drum a little closer. The rest of the stage was taken up by other instruments – BAR had pushed her piano against the wall for space while M21 and M1911 sat center stage, M14 plucking her guitar and twisting it into tune off to the side.

Numerous patrons had already filtered into the bar, ordering drinks and talking a seat at one of the tables. Most of them chatted as they waited for the show to start, and a few had taken seats at the front of the stage, conversing with M14.

"Gilberto was a master," said the doll, holding her guitar underneath her arms protectively. "His technique… without flaw. Misplace one chord, and there would be diminishment."

"I prefer Reinhardt," replied Ballista. M14 shrugged. "Not my style…"

"Springfield!" greeting M60, appearing in front of the bartender's field of view. Springfield focused on the smaller doll, who had taken a seat on one of the barstools and was tapping her fingers on the countertop.

"Yes?"

"Can I have a Coke?"

Springfield reached underneath the counter into the cooler and extracted a bottle of the fizzy beverage she had stocked it with for this event. With practiced ease she popped the cap off and caught it midair, sliding the bottle over to M60.

"You do that a lot?" asked the doll.

"Every time," replied Springfield. "How long do you think this show's going to run for?"

M60 took a gulp of soda before replying, savoring the taste. "Depends. M14 mentioned some stuff we hadn't planned on originally, so I guess it depends on if we have energy left after the program. And MT-9 said she wasn't sure about doing vocals last time we asked…"

Springfield sighed, yet said nothing. M1919A4 had a habit of letting the band run itself, which often resulted in everyone adding their own flavor to events. M14 insisted on guitar, M21 liked long solo pieces, and M1919A4 herself insisted on a guest vocalist as often as she could get one. Usually, Spitfire was willing to sing, but MT-9 had been asked to provide Portugese vocals for the bossa nova event that was intended for tonight. Springfield herself had once been asked to join as a guest flutist, but was hard pressed for time when BAR mentioned that she wanted to do her own piano solo.

"Just let me know," she said to M60. The café door squeaked as it opened, and Springfield looked up to see StG44 step through into the café. Even for tonight's event, she kept her cap tight on her head and jacket buttoned.

"Welcome to the café," smiled the doll. StG44 glared at Springfield for a moment before her gaze softened, and she nodded in what passed for an amiable acknowledgement before making a beeline for a back table. AS Val was already sitting there, and the two started conversing shortly after.

"I'm surprised you came," said AS Val as StG took the seat opposite hers. A single large candle lit the table, the flame's reflection dancing in AS Val's glasses. "This is such an odd event, after all. Have you been before?"

StG looked at the stage briefly, identifying M14 and BAR. "No."

"Me neither. Americans, right? I was never one for jazz myself…"

"Is that an American trait?"

"Well…" AS Val pushed the ice in her drink around with a straw. "I guess it is. But none of those dolls are really _American_… just like you're not really German." StG's mouth briefly creased in a frown. "I'm Russian, though. Griffin being a Russian PMC, and us being in NSU territory. How's that for a technicality?"

"Yeah," StG said distractedly, still staring around the café. Val had chosen a table removed from the other patrons, but StG expected that the gap would fill up soon. Z-62 was sitting at a table with a few other SMG-class dolls: SR-3MP, m45, and Sten were all seated around a large table, hands cupped around various beverages. Z-62 had made no indications that she was aware of StG44's presence, and if she was she clearly didn't care. StG appreciated that.

"Can I order you anything?" Val asked. StG thought for a moment.

"No."

"Hm." Val sat back in her chair, looking down at the tabletop. _What do you want_, pondered StG.

As a new wave of patrons made their way to their seats, M1919A4 approached the mic. "Hello everyone! I think we've got a pretty big audience already, so we'll probably start now! Uh, MT-9 doesn't seem to be here right now, so I think we'll start with…"

"Ruby My Dear!" M21 said loudly, smiling.

"Ruby My Dear," echoed M1919A4, mirroring the smile before she returned to her drum kit.

"Right, I think I can finally tell you what you're here for," AS Val said, leaning across the table. "This is top secret stuff…"

"Looks like the show's already started," NTW-20 whispered to SASS once they were inside. Springfield gazed at the two of them as they made their way across the café floor, trying to find an open seat. Several rows of chairs had been set up on one side without tables, and NTW-20 made for the second to last row, but SASS caught a glimpse of M9 in the row in front of it.

"Let's sit somewhere else," she muttered, starting to turn away. NTW-20 shook her head.

"No time."

"Look, there's a table over there…"

"You'll be fine with me," insisted NTW-20, taking SASS by the arm and pulling her along. The doll blushed as NTW inched to the seats and sat down, yanking SASS into the seat next to her. "Be quiet," she murmured before SASS could apologize.

As they settled, M1911 and M21 finished their last notes, letting the sound resonate into nothing before taking their mouths off their instruments. M1919A4 returned to the mic amid clapping from the crowd. "Thank you everyone! That was _Berkeley Square_… Now we're gonna change it up a bit with the help of MT-9 and M14!"

The two dolls climbed up onto the stage, M14 taking M1911's seat as the trombonist stepped down into the crowd. MT-9 slid up to the mic.

"So, everyone wants to hear some Portugese…" The crowd clapped and cheered. "Everyone seemed to like the last one, so I mixed in some old songs with new stuff you haven't heard."

"Bossa nova?" NTW-20 whispered, sitting up. "This should be good."

It was very dark in the café, SASS realized. _M9 will never know I was here. _She could hardly identify NTW next to her, let alone the dolls farther away. Everyone was focusing on the stage in a happy camaraderie as M14 brought her guitar under her arm and began strumming. MT-9 approached the mic.

_Quiet nights of quiet stars,_

_Quiet chords from my guitar,_

_Floating on the silence that surrounds us…_

NTW took a deep breath and sat back as MT-9 began singing. The doll had a pretty voice that carried well, and for the first time since entering the café SASS finally started to relax. She could not shake the unease in her stomach, however. _It's the perfect opportunity_, she reasoned. Dark, discreet, no one from her echelon was around, no one from NTW-20's squadron was present either, and the crowd was focused on the stage. SASS looked to her right. NTW had her eyes front and her hands folded in her lap. SASS leaned over to her shoulder.

"Senpai…"

"Yes?" NTW didn't tear her gaze off from the performers. SASS swallowed her anxiety, sitting with her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she could make the words come out.

"I like you."

NTW kept a poker face, still not looking at SASS. _Maybe she didn't hear._ The doll started to lean away, dejected, when NTW raised a hand out of her lap and reached over to SASS, taking her right hand in her grip and resting it in between the both of them. The doll had removed her glove, and her hand was warm and soft underneath, a little bigger than SASS's. Her grip was firm but gentle, and NTW squeezed gently in reassurance. SASS waited a beat before sliding a little closer to NTW and resting her head against her shoulder, setting her other hand on NTW's arm. The schoolgirl uniform she wore was of fairly soft material, and the warmth underneath was just the right temperature.

SASS smiled.

StG felt a grin coming on. "That's not real. Tell me you're kidding."

"It's real." AS Val sipped on her drink. "All of it. IOP hasn't released official information, but it's only a matter of time… AVS-36 wouldn't lie, I'm telling you."

Digimind Evolution. A phrase StG had both coveted and loathed, far out of her reach… until now. AS Val had unveiled a whole new path for her. Digimind Evolution would raise her IOP commercial rating as well as hardware upgrades that would seat her comfortably above FAMAS and maybe even on par with five-star elites like FAL. The prospect certainly excited StG, but at the same time she felt incredibly conflicted over the matter. Any value in skill lay in trained improvements made with time and effort, not an IOP enhancement program.

The band went quiet as MT-9 called an intermission, the café lights brightening up just a little. StG had given into her craving and bought a small serving of cut fried potatoes from Springfield, which AS Val had stated was one of the best ways to serve potatoes she had found. StG couldn't help but agree as she ate the final few fries, licking the salt off her hands. She had removed her gloves and set them to the side while eating, and before that had taken off her jacket when the café began getting too warm. _Perhaps it's too much to unwind,_ she thought, but AS Val had only a thin tank top on underneath her military jacket, so she supposed it was all right.

The doll was undeniably happy. She had wrapped up the earlier combat deployment with CBJ-MS without a hitch and had even gotten to show Kerr the room where she had found the half-broken Prowler and notepad. Kerr had barely acknowledged her presence, nor any of the other dolls, but such a fact hardly dampened StG's spirits. She was on track for a Digimind overhaul. Despite how controversial she might have found the prospect, it was still uplifting.

As several members of the crowd stood up to get drinks or food, StG looked over to see NTW standing up and stretching her arms. The sight of her team leader was enough to wipe the smile off her face, but StG felt much less apprehensive than normal. NTW turned her head to see StG and started making her way over to the doll, taking long strides across the floor.

"Didn't think you'd be here, 44," said the pink-haired doll, stopping at the edge of the table. StG's high seat let her look NTW in the eye.

"AS Val invited me," replied the doll, reluctant to mention the news just yet. NTW looked over to Val, who smiled and waved.

"Good seeing you outside the command checkpoint!" she greeted cheerily.

"Mm," grunted NTW. AS Val grabbed the vodka glass and left for the bar. "Are you enjoying the show?"

"It's not my type of music," StG admitted, seeing NTW-20's eyes shift to the removed gloves and jacket. "But I appreciate the skill of the artists, and it's not all that bad."

"I'm glad to hear that you can say that," replied NTW, and her tone was genuine. "How's CBJ-MS going?"

"There were some bumps, but I think I can work with them," said StG. "K11 is a bit odd, but they're good."

NTW nodded. "Good. I'll let Kerr know."

StG had no time to consider the statement before another doll came up behind StG, a small serving of fries in her left hand. With her right, she reached for NTW-20's left hand, and the two laced their fingers together. StG stared for a split second before looking up to see the new arrival's face.

"This is SuperSASS," said NTW-20, taking a fry from the container. "SASS, this is StG44. She's one of the dolls from Hunter."

SASS was the doll from the hilltop, StG realized. She was on RFB's team, she was the one Hunter had saved, the one NTW-20 had talked to and sworn at StG for interrupting them. She smiled at StG, soft blue eyes surprisingly calming. The doll looked a great deal less out of place than she had been a month ago.

"I've been training her ever since the battle," NTW said. "She's done quite well for herself, right?"

"I wouldn't quite put it that way," the doll replied softly. StG furrowed her brow. Training? Was this what NTW had been spending her time on? The doll was cute, by all means, but hardly material for an apprentice. The doll barely handled a minor skirmish as part of a defensive, so how would she fare against whatever regimen NTW-20 was putting her through? _Certainly not material for fighting a Ringleader._

"She was the one who fought the Ringleader a couple days ago," NTW said matter-of-factly, chewing a fry. StG was glad she didn't have anything in her mouth to spit out. "She's a good doll, even if she still needs practice.

StG reconsidered the doll. She supposed that she had once been young and naïve and inexperienced and in need of practice. Agent had taken that away from her, however, and Kerr had denied her the opportunity to fix herself. But StG realized that Kerr had only transferred her into Hunter. StG had been the one to tell herself that it was time to grow up. _Maybe I cut out the part I needed to keep._ SASS certainly seemed to be doing it right. StG called it luck. She had been shot dead, while SASS had been saved before anything bad happened.

Maybe SASS had it right, regardless of her luck. Maybe StG needed to reconsider. The doll's serenity reminded her of CBJ-MS's quiet, even tone of voice when giving orders. The latter had smiled at StG at the end of their deployment, and again when she gave her permission to go to the show. StG thought about it, feeling inspired. Maybe her assignment to Chrysanthemum was a chance for something new, not a punishment. Did Kerr know that?

"Looks like the show's resuming," said NTW-20.

"It was nice meeting you!" said SASS, smiling again. StG looked up and smiled back.

"You too."


	19. INTERMISSION

"Is everyone here?"

A chorus of affirmatives and wave of nods was the response from the motley crew of dolls and humans gathered in the command center. Despite the lateness of the hour, everyone present looked awake, for which Kerr was thankful. She had chosen the meeting time so that the command center would be empty of nonessential personnel, the better to conduct a semi-secret briefing. The Commander punched in a few commands on the holotable, spinning up a map of S17.

"All right. Jericho, report on our containment efforts."

The doll to Kerr's left leaned forward, producing a pointer which she started using for gestures in reference to the map. "Several daytime teams have been deployed to stifle Sangvis troop movements in the region. Just yesterday, Chrysanthemum was deployed to A2 and A6 to intercept several Sangvis patrols in the area, and the day before Arnica, and the day before that Dogwood… despite all operations being successful, no impact seems to have been made on Sangvis troop numbers, implying a large reserve, or maybe even a hidden production centre."

"We have enough ammunition to keep dealing with it," commented Evert Salmela, the logistics officer. "But if Sangvis starts sending out more troops…"

"We'll have to deploy and resupply more dolls in a single day," finished Makarov. "The issue isn't ammunition supply, it's actually getting the ammunition to the dolls. If they have to spend more time out there, we'll need to start resupplying them in the field, and then it gets risky. We don't know if there's more Soviet tech Sangvis could use in the region – they could shoot at our carriers."

"Perhaps we can continue using trucks, the same way we transport the dolls?" suggested Contender, lips pursed in thought. "It's slow, but keeps transport safe from potential air intercept systems."

"But what if Sangvis raid the supply trucks? We'd have to assign a doll escort to them." Makarov played with the end of her scarf. Kerr sensed that the doll was baffled for a solution to the supply problem. From the other end of the table, Major Bezpalov, the commanding officer for the wing of helicopters attached to the base, spoke up.

"We can risk the flights. Maybe the Commander can work to locate any other old Soviet installations and remove the chance of Sangvis shooting us down, like at the hangar."

"That works," replied Kerr, no longer wishing to hear the argument between the staff. "Makarov, I'm putting you in charge of the search-and-destroy missions."

"Isn't field command Welrod's job?"

"You can stay in the command center, Welrod will go in the field," said Kerr. "Come up with a list of teams you want to deploy and give it to me when you're done. Serdyukov, work on getting a list of Soviet installations in S17 from the database, if possible. Major, Salmela, you can get ready to start running resupply sorties in the meantime."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Right. Schuhart, report on the Yew Team investigation."

The IOP engineer was silent for a moment before speaking, crossing his arms across his lab coat as he did. "RPD has not improved. There's a team of engineers working with me to unscramble all the diagnostic data, but no one's having an easy time of it. I've never seen damage to the digimind like this. It's like Parapluie, but… different. 16Lab has been rather unhelpful in their communiqués, so it's up to us to decipher what's going on."

"And what about the cause of it?" asked Jericho. "Surely there's something."

"I performed a necropsy on the SV-98 dummy recovered in the forest. It seems to me like it was forced into shutdown via an external force."

"Some sort of focused EMP?" asked MP-448.

"Maybe. The dummy was then cannibalized for certain parts, and it appears that during the process it was permanently disabled. The only thing I've found is traces of foreign nanites on the corpse as well as in RPD's system."

"Perhaps from what attacked her," replied Kerr. "Do you know anything about them?"

"Sangvis, for sure. Beyond that, it'll take a lot more lab analysis."

Python leaned in from her position between Spitfire and Makarov. "And what about the thing that did this? It's Sangvis, yeah, but I don't get the impression that it'll go down as easily as the last one."

"I can attest to that," said Grizzly, breaking her silence from where she stood next to Makarov. "It'll be a bitch to even get it in our crosshairs."

"So do we have a plan?" pressed Makarov. "A way to kill this Sangvis, and put an end to SF's efforts in this sector?"

"We don't know where the Ringleader is operating out of, and thus will have a hard time attempting to track it," said Kerr. "Hunter Team is devising a solution for the matter. For now, we will simply have to wait for it to come out, if at all."

"Assuming we _can_ kill it," put in MP-448. "Tiss had a team of veterans with her. No one on Carnation is a pushover. How long have Grizzly and M590 been employed with Griffin? I don't like the ratio of successes to deaths here so far."

"Maybe it's a matter of fighting it on our terms," replied Contender. "Luring it out. Bring it to a place where we have the advantage."

"What place is that, though? We've fought it in the woods right outside our checkpoint and in a massive hangar with it outnumbered eight to one. Can we even lure it out in the first place?"

"Of course we can. It acts like an animal, and animals love meat." Jericho sounded much more confident than MP-448.

"This one also happens to be particularly good at _disappearing dolls_," said Makarov. "We shouldn't hinge our success here on a hunch that this Ringleader is just as bloodthirsty as the others. You read the briefing from yesterday, right? Grizzly mentioned that it _used a Griffin IFF tag._ That's more than a little worrying."

"Shchuka will keep dolls from being mistaken for the Ringleader, or vice versa," countered Jericho. "We sweep the entire sector on foot, keep Hunter and other QRF teams ready in choppers to land and blow the head off this Sangvis, and then tear every cavern and Soviet installation apart to find any last trace of Sangvis Ferri and slag it!"

Several dolls and humans murmured agreement with Jericho, seeing no other alternative. Kerr certainly saw the value in the plan. She was almost inclined to approve it.

"No."

Jericho looked over to the Commander, her face twitching in annoyance. "Ma'am, it's the best way."

"OTs-12 and SV-98 are still out there."

"What's the use of their little guerilla tactics?" Jericho was peeved. "It means nothing if this Sangvis Ringleader is continuing to direct the war effort against us and taking out our dolls one by one at the same time. We'd have to operate in large teams so there isn't a repeat of the Yew incident."

"Those dolls have got a lot to analyze. Even if they themselves don't know anything useful, there's never been a case of Sangvis taking prisoners before. They might be carrying something worth looking at. Not to mention that conducting a sector-wide hunt for this Ringleader would mean mobilizing the entire base, which we can't do right now. And even if we could, I wouldn't order anything like it. We lack the logistics, technology, or numbers for a large-scale offensive to work, even if this _is_ one of the largest doll garrisons in Eastern Europe."

"Acting in haste is a fatal misstep," Makarov conceded. "It would be unwise to go all in when so many variables are unknown."

Kerr nodded to herself. "The best course of action is to do what we can with what we have. We'll continue our current containment effort and secure Soviet military assets that might be commandeered by Sangvis. Once we have better control of the playing field, we can start working on a plan for the Ringleader."

An uneasy silence filled the room, but no one seemed to have any other solutions to offer. Kerr sighed. "I know no one's too confident with this situation, but we're in a state of limbo right now until fresh information comes in. Let's just keep moving steadily."

"All due respect, ma'am, but we're going to have a hard time with that if things escalate any further," said MP-448, her tone forceful. "S17 has always been an active area, but I sense it getting a bit _hotter_ in the coming weeks."

"That's enough," said Kerr, dismissing the doll. Fearmongering was the last thing she wanted to hear at a time like this. "There's one more matter to discuss: the SV-98 recording found by Chrysanthemum. I trust everyone has watched it on their own time?"

"Yes. They're wise to stay away. How do we know they're not already infected with Parapluie?" Jericho sounded quite skeptical.

"Because they couldn't have handled the Sangvis virus. It would've fried their digminds out, or turned them into something not capable of speech or higher reasoning."

"Should we organize search teams?" asked Serdyukov. "It may look bad to take no action."

"No. They're right, the risk of Sangvis infection is too high," said Kerr. "We'll let them run off the grid, so long as they don't interfere with normal operations. When we get the chance, maybe some sort of containment procedure can be devised to bring them in safely, with no risk to the rest of the dolls or the base. MP40, I'll give you jurisdiction on monitoring any information related to the two of them, as well as handling communications, should any more of these messages show up."

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

"Are there any other comments?" Kerr asked, looking around at all the gathered command staff. No one opened their mouths. "Very well. This will all be reported to Helian tomorrow, so we'll see just what Griffin command thinks of it all. Meeting adjourned."

**Double upload because of how short these chapters are. So ends the first half (or so) of A War for Three (the distinction is really just for me, since this is where I started a new Google Doc to write it in after the first one started getting really slow to open and such. Also because there's gonna be a short timeskip between this intermission and the next chapter, as well as a change that will become evident very quickly. Finally, this means that I only have a few finished chapters left (I'm actually still writing the fanfiction and started uploading well after I began writing, but now my upload schedule is catching up to my writing), so expect a bigger gap between chapters in the next month or so. Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading so far and I hope you continue to enjoy my content. **


	20. Makarov Chapter 1

The gusts of wind coming off the helicopter's rotors blew Makarov's scarf in her face and nearly took her hat off, but the doll calmly reached up and held both articles of clothing still. It was cold in the hangar, not at all helped by the brisk winter wind following the helicopter. Makarov was quite warm, however, comfortably wrapped up in her coat and tights and boots. Not that dolls would ever need as much heat as organics did to survive, but it helped ease the discomfort of the cold wind anyway.

To her left, Major Bezpalov stood, cloaked in his old Soviet winter overcoat and ushanka. Despite the gale and chill, the officer was quite unflinching. Makarov observed his attitude (or lack thereof) and filed the memory away for later examination and consideration. He was one of the few humans on base she truly looked up to.

Finally, the helicopter touched down and the rotors began slowing. It was an Mi-26, Soviet Russia's biggest production chopper, and S17 had exactly one. It had rarely been used beforehand thanks to its fuel costs and excessiveness, but Bezpalov and Makarov had jointly mandated its necessity for the purposes of their mission.

The helipad jutted out from the hangar, the sheer face of the mountain dropping down beneath it. _Soviets_, mused Makarov, once again struck by the design choices of the mountain base. Two more helipads like it were each spaced by thirty meters, and an immense hangar door had been pulled up for the purposes of today's landing. Helicopters were pulled into their own service hangars by dedicated vehicles after they had landed, but the Mi-26 was the only chopper present at the moment.

As Makarov watched, the side door was unlocked and pulled open, and Welrod Mk II jumped down onto the concrete, followed by SVD, PP-19, AS Val, and KSG. The quintet of dolls quickly stepped off the helipad and approached Makarov and Bezpalov. Makarov only glanced once at the CO of the air wing to ascertain that he was keeping the same neutral expression.

"We got your bloody _Guideline_," Welrod spat.

"Волга," Makarov corrected, confused at her partner's tone.

"I'll call it whatever I goddamn please." Welrod paused and took a moment to breathe. "Did you know there was a field of mines outside of that base, or that the automated turrets would still be up?"

Makarov raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. "No. Serdyukov made no mention of such defenses in her report."

"Yeah, well, they were there. And we got torn to shreds. At least there weren't many Sangvis, and at least they can't laugh, because I absolutely would've if I'd seen how sorry we were afterwards. How many more of these are there?"

"We know of at least four more sites."

"Smashing. Let me know if there are any _defences_ this time, okay?"

"I certainly shall."

Welrod nodded, mollified. "Major," she said, and walked towards the exit. The next doll to speak was SVD.

"A bit of warning _would_ be appreciated," she said, a bit more lightly than Welrod. Makarov sighed.

"I'll see. The Soviets classified a lot of stuff about their bases here, and sometimes they didn't even bother to make a note of where they mined, or what the remote shutdown code is for the defenses…

"It's fine," said SVD. "Nothing some time in the repair bay won't fix. Besides, you need to offload the helicopter and prep it for the next sortie. We really scored big on this one."

Led by SVD, the four dolls trooped off after Welrod. Makarov stood still for a moment before starting for the chopper, followed by Bezpalov. As she stepped out onto the helipad, the winds got worse, and only with careful steps did she make it to the door without losing her footing.

"Makarov!" greeted the co-pilot as she climbed inside the cabin. He was a ruddy-faced man, surprisingly cheerful for Soviet pilot. Ex-Soviet, Makarov corrected herself._._

"Evgeny," she replied, offering him a small upward twitch of the lips. Both he and the pilot grew serious as Bezpalov entered after her, but he merely gestured for them to continue with the post-flight checks.

"The tug is coming out now," he said. "How was the flight? I know you haven't taken her out for a while."

"She was great," replied Grigori, the other pilot. "Held together great for someone as old as she, and with the extra weight."

Makarov turned to see exactly what the extra weight was. Two S-75 Волга "Guideline" missiles were nestled in the cargo area of the helicopter, a crisp white against its green-khaki interior. She knelt by the warhead, placing a hand on its metal cap. Bezpalov merely gave it a glance before resuming his conversation with the pilots.

"Kerr and Makarov say we're going to keep running missions," said Bezpalov. "I'll be shifting you out with Andrei and Volodymyr soon–"

"Oh no, trust us, Major. We can take the extra missions."

"Maybe you can. But I don't want to hear about an accident because you got overconfident, or felt heroic."

"Since when have we let you down?" Evgeny sounded ready, but refused to break his gaze away from the instruments. Makarov straightened up and went to stand by Bezpalov, putting one booted foot up on the raised cockpit floor.

"We don't want you to be so tired you get into an accident," she said. "It'd be a waste of–"

"–your lives, and the dolls in the helicopter," Bezpalov cut her off. "There's no obligation here. Have a smoke, get some rest, eat something. This was your fifth sortie in fourty-eight hours, you need it."

Both pilots nodded, and Bezpalov glanced at Makarov as if to say "_Take from that what you will." _The doll got the message.

"How many of these did the military make?" Makarov asked as the two stood back in the hangar, watching a group of human technicians transport the two missiles into the base.

"4,600 launchers, many more missiles."

Makarov ran her tongue around her teeth contemplatively. They were porcelain – she was old enough to have porcelain teeth instead of plastic – and nearly perfect imitations of actual human teeth. Or so the IOP engineers said, anyway. Makarov was not particularly well versed in the matter. "We've got a lot of work to do."

"And that's not to say there isn't a Tunguska or something similar in a base out there."

"Don't tempt fate."

Bezpalov snorted. "I'm surprised you'd use such a phrase."

"I picked it up," she said as an excuse, which was true. Makarov was not so foolish as to believe in superstition.

"Hm. Well, despite your worry, we should be just fine. None of your dolls said that Sangvis had gotten close to actually operating the launchers, right?"

_My dolls._ "Yeah."

"We'll be fine," Bezpalov repeated. "Everything's going according to plan. Don't worry too much, or something _will _go wrong."

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," Makarov said religiously.

"Hm."

The missiles disappeared into the freight elevator and the immense hangar door began to clatter down as the Mi-26 was pulled towards its servicing bay. Makarov sighed, her breath clouding in the air in front of her. "I need to go follow up with Welrod."

"And I with the pilots." Without another word, the two stepped away from each other and went their separate ways.

Winter was fast approaching, if it hadn't already come. The base had been shut up even more than normal to protect against the bitter wind and snow, and the base's high-up location did nothing to help. At least the dolls were operating in the low-altitude area of the foothills and forests, where the cold wasn't as bad, but there were still heavy parkas by the main entrance for anyone heading outside. Even inside the base, vast portions of it were poorly insulated and heated, so many dolls wore coats whenever they could. Makarov wore winter gear as part of her usual outfit, so she saw little need for extra insulation herself. She considered herself better than the dolls like G41, who wore very little. Not that the Commander sent G41 out on many missions to begin with…

Makarov stepped into the café. It was fairly empty, with most dolls – including Springfield, as it were – away on missions. Kerr and Jericho had recently upped the amount of echelons out patrolling S17, Springfield's Mayflower Team one of them. G36 ran the café in her absence, and a selection of Brahms played over the radio. Makarov ignored the music as her gaze swept about the room. Many dolls came to the café for a respite right after a sortie, even if it was just for a drink.

Welrod was one such individual. The doll was sitting alone at a table, hand around a pint of beer. Makarov approached her quickly, and Welrod scowled.

"Mind if I take a seat?" Makarov asked, already sitting down.

"Yes," muttered Welrod, taking a gulp of her pint.

"I'm sorry about the lack of information."

"S'fine," Welrod replied, resting her head in her chin tiredly. "Nobody got killed, just beat up. Was good practice, I guess." This particular model of Welrod spoke with a London accent, something Makarov found rather fitting for her personality.

"We've got a bit while the helicopter refuels and the crew changes. If you want to skip this sortie…"

"No. I'll keep going," said Welrod, taking another sip of her beer and wiping away the moustache from her lip. "Who'd you send instead?"

"Grizzly, NZ75," Makarov shrugged.

"Right. I'll be there for the next run," Welrod chuckled at Makarov, who begrudgingly offered a smile after some hesitation. "That's good. You should smile more often, reminds me that you're not Kerr."

Makarov stopped smiling.

"Sorry I popped off on you earlier," said Welrod, focusing on the rim of her pint glass. "I was just angry. At the team, at you, at the Soviets, whatever."

"At the team?" Makarov leaned forward. "If you're having problems, I can reassign–"

"No, no, they're fine. They're really good, actually," grinned Welrod. "I wouldn't mind working with them after this mission is over, on a better schedule."

"That's good," said Makarov, genuinely surprised. Welrod usually worked with the best rifle team in S17, so hearing her praise a bunch of second-fiddle dolls was certainly something. Makarov made a mental note to bring it up at the next echelon composition meeting. "I'll let you know when you're sortieing again."

"Yeah. Thanks." Welrod finished her pint with one big swig. "New pilots, you said? I kind of liked Evgeny."

"Bezpalov insisted."

"Fair enough. Tired pilots are dangerous pilots."

Makarov nodded. "Well. See you after it."

"Aye-aye." Welrod saluted with two fingers and turned around to return her glass to the bar. Makarov had left the room by the time Welrod looked behind her.

The doll's next stop was munitions storage, which was where the recovered missiles had been taken. It was not a short ride down in the aged Soviet freight elevator, and Makarov took it alone. Not that she particularly minded: the doll was rather used to doing everything without help or a companion, even in the command center. She often pondered if that was why Kerr liked her – independence. _Though cooperation is vital to a good command structure,_ Makarov reflected, a phrase she had picked up after joining the S17 command team.

The elevator doors squeaked open and Makarov stepped out into the munitions storage warehouse. Though not possessing of as high a ceiling as the IOP factory floor, it was just as expansive. Crate upon crate of weapons filled the floor, high and tight enough that Makarov could only see down the corridor. There were too many rows to count. Though a lot of it was surplus ammunition for the dolls and human divisions, yet more were grenades of all shapes and sizes, missiles or autocannon rounds for the numerous helicopters S17 operated, and the increasing amount of recovered Soviet weaponry awaiting processing.

"Makarov," said the doll emerging from amongst the stacks.

"Vector," replied Makarov.

"Here for the Guidelines? I've already put them back in extra-large storage."

"Yes."

"Follow me."

Makarov liked Vector a great deal. Not only did the doll keep her mouth shut, but she got the job done, did it well, and rarely complained. When she did have something to say, it was always constructive. Makarov held a lot of respect for dolls who kept their composure. She supposed that it was too much to expect it, however. Nearly every doll was preprogrammed, so they couldn't help their personality. Makarov herself was like that–

Vector broke into her thoughts. "How many more of these do you think you'll recover?"

"Er, we're not sure. Four to eight, maybe more."

Vector sighed. "Please let me know. They aren't small, and we aren't equipped to handle them. Not to mention the risk if it explodes…"

Makarov chewed her lip. "Sure. I'll see what I can do."

They came to the missiles now. Another one of the dolls staffing the warehouse was K11, who worked when she was off her echelon shift. _Likely for the best she's not around explosives more often_, Makarov thought, knowing the doll's tendencies.

"What's the deal?" Vector asked.

"Without the launcher, I don't anticipate it being easy to start the launch and detonation sequence," K11 said. "They'll be safe for the moment, but obviously a proper defusing would be preferred.

"Are the Soviets going to want these?" Vector asked Makarov, who shrugged.

"Maybe. They haven't responded to our questions about it just yet."

"Hm."

"They're real beauties," K11 grinned. "Big, heavy, powerful. Soviets knew what they were doing with this one."

"Don't fall in love," Vector chided, turning to Makarov. "Well, you saw them and got the update. Need anything else?"

"I can't think of anything," Makarov said. "How many more _can_ you take?"

"Two, four. Maybe six, if we arrange them right. Any more, we'll need more space down here. Or to use another storage room – but that would mean getting the missiles _there_, which could be difficult. Or digging a new one. Or connecting two rooms. Or–"

"I get it," said Makarov, holding up a hand. Vector pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You give me this huge storage room, then load it up with enough ammunition to level this mountain range, and then want me to store a bunch of very, _very _high-yield anti-aircraft missiles in with it. You'll at least give me the proper space. I'm not too keen on the idea of stacking them."

"I'll see what I can do," Makarov said again. "Is that all?"

"I've got a list." Vector reached for her pocket.

"No, stop. Send it to Serdyukov or Type 81." Makarov crossed her arms. "I don't handle that stuff."

"Pity, I wanted to see your face when you saw how long it was." Vector sounded dead serious. "Incidentally, have you seen AK-47 today?"

"...no, why?"

The bar was crowded. Springfield's café may be run by a doll, for dolls, but the bar – it had no real name – was quite the opposite. Deep in the bowels of the original Soviet installation, the place had originally been a lounge for the staff, but some dolls had found it and, in collaboration with the human mercenaries in S17, converted it into a proper bar. It was one of the rare spots where androids and organics mingled outside of missions. Kerr had never acknowledged it, but no action had ever been taken to shut it down, so it continued running strong. The walls were rough concrete, the tables covered with a bland Soviet pattern, and the bar was plain metal, but the place had a unique atmosphere that many seemed to enjoy.

Makarov was assaulted by a wall of noise as she entered the bar. Every seat was full of either dolls or humans, drinking or eating. _Lunchtime, _though Makarov, consulting her internal clock. Vector said that AK-47 would be with her echelon, or at the very least some friends. Makarov didn't much like that.

"Makarov!" cheered the doll in question, and Makarov caught sight of the bottle of vodka in her hand. "I thought I'd never see you!"

"We talk every week," said Makarov, wishing it was once every year.

"Not enough." AK-47 staggered across the floor towards Makarov, dolls and Griffin soldiers hastily stepping aside. "Makarov… Макарова!"

"Quit it. Vector said you needed something?"

"Oh, yes," said AK-47, standing up straight and adopting a serious tone. Makarov wondered if she had actually snapped out of her liquor-induced stupor. "About that."

"What is it?"

"Well…" she started, pivoting on her heel and returning to the bar. KS-23 and AVS-36 both sat on stools, somewhat warily watching AK-47. Makarov wondered where the doll's other squadmates were. "There's something I've been noticing on my missions recently."

"Yes?"

"It's really quite the hindrance, I think. And it's been around for a while. But yesterday's patrol was the final straw…"

"Just spit it out!" Makarov hated being held in suspense, _she_ was the one who was supposed to know everything. Not to mention that AK-47 sounded like she actually had some important information.

"Vodka! Kerr's dumb 'no drinking on duty' policy… it just won't do!" AK-47 took another swig out of the vodka bottle and slammed it down on the bar. AVS-36 jumped at the noise. "A-91 and I agree that we need to be drinking for any work to actually get done. How else do we handle the stress?"

"That's enough," said AVS-36 from the bar, standing up unsteadily. AK-47 spun around to face her.

"You can't speak! You only just came out of that office. Maybe you should drink something…"

"You drink _for_ her," sighed Makarov. "Did you only want to see me to petition for drinking while on duty?"

"Absolutely!" grinned AK-47. Makarov stared. "Come on, comrade."

"Don't 'comrade' me," Makarov said angrily. "First, I hear that you need something. Feeling benevolent, I decide to humor you and walk all the way down here, to find you drunk off your ass at–" she checked the time again –"Twelve thirty in the afternoon. Then, you have the audacity to ask me if you can drink _more_ during the one time you're _not_ allowed to."

"You don't have to be such a downer," mumbled AK-47. Makarov rolled her eyes.

"That's your fault. You've got a mission in eighteen hours, so I suggest you quit the bar and get some sleep. Don't ask for me if you don't have an actual problem, you hear?"

Without saying another word, Makarov turned on her heel and marched out of the bar. She had more important things to attend to.


	21. StG44 Chapter 6

It was just past 0500 when StG woke, dressed, and quietly stepped out of her and K11's room. She was lucky the doll was such a heavy sleeper, since she wouldn't have made it out of bed, let alone the room, had K11 woken at anything StG did. CBJ-MS was, of course, the more difficult one. She lay slumped over the holotable in the dorm living room, fast asleep. StG stood stock still for a moment and listened to her team leader's quiet breaths.

Satisfied, StG crossed over to the door and turned the knob ever-so-slowly, carefully pulling the door open. It was well-oiled, thankfully, and made no noise as she stepped out. The dormitory corridor was dim from the day-night lighting cycle, and completely empty. That was certainly something to be said, considering how Kerr tried her best to keep everyone doing work at some point in the day, but StG didn't complain. The last thing she wanted right now was to be seen.

As she stepped along, StG considered everything that had happened so far.

She had been with Chrysanthemum for over two weeks now. Despite her original thoughts on the team, StG had grown used to and even liked the other members of the echelon. For all her doubts, they were very skilled, and had certainly earned their position among the best teams in S17. CBJ-MS smiled at her, treated her like a member of the echelon, and no longer looked down upon StG. The doll had gotten used to serving in a frontline team, and she found that it was quite enjoyable. Of course, nothing matched the pleasure she would get from taking down a Ringleader, but the experience she shared with Chrysanthemum was almost as enjoyable. Not to mention the lack of FAMAS.

Chrysanthemum had been at the forefront of Kerr's sector-wide counteroffensive, which Jericho had termed "Operation: Takeback." StG found the name terribly dry, but exactly the sort of thing Jericho would call an operation. The hours of deployment were so long that StG had to wake up at 5 o'clock to get any time to herself. Solitude – for the first time in a long while, the doll was actually busy on a regular basis, and not with self-prescribed time in the combat sims or drinking with G43.

She approached the atrium now. Despite the hour, the hall had a few individuals in it. Two security dolls lazed about the entrance to the command wing and a pair of uniformed Griffin soldiers were in the process of crossing from the elevator banks to the barracks entrance. Neither of them paid any attention to the doll exiting the dormitory area. StG often wondered what the human troops thought of their android counterparts. Ignorance, maybe. _She_, at least, saw the humans as a necessary, yet outdated foot soldier. Though StG ceded that she had never actually talked to, let alone fought with one.

StG44 stepped into an elevator and pressed the button for the IOP administrative level. Thankfully, it was a quick ride in the renovated elevator, and the doors slid open only about a minute after she stepped inside. The central corridor was wide but low, mostly dark save for a few running lights. StG starting walking down it. Most office doors were closed, but through the windows she could see the lights of computer banks constantly running. The eerie, yet reassuring hum and whirr of countless machines running 24/7 filled StG's as she walked along.

Soon, she reached the end of the hallway and looked to her left. The door to the office was wide open, and the doll could hear wisps of a quiet conversation as she drew closer.

"...drunk, and really loud," said a quiet, feminine voice that StG failed to recognize.

"A lot of Soviets tend to be like that," replied a male voice.

"Not me, I hope."

The male voice chuckled. "Well, I'll make sure that doesn't make it into your programmed predispositions."

"Gee, thanks."

StG stood just outside of the room's field of view before stepping into the entrance.

"Ah, StG!" said Schuhart, looking up from his desk. The IOP engineer smiled at her and gestured for the doll to step inside. "Please, join us."

"Us?" StG couldn't help asking, though she already knew someone else was inside.

"Yes. Have you met AVS-36?"

StG fully entered the room and looked to see who he meant. Against the wall was a reclining repair couch – a luxury item not often found in Griffin bases – in which rested a brown-haired, fair-skinned T-doll with numerous diagnostic cables attached to her body. However, her closed eyes and limp attitude indicated that she was deactivated, and her left leg had been skillfully separated from her body, leaving only an empty socket.

"Please pardon my appearance," said the female voice. "It was necessary for the modification process."

"I…" StG was at quite a loss for words. Schuhart made a short hand movement towards his desk on the far wall before he looked back down to the leg he was working on. A T-doll core rested in a diagnostic station, which was in turn hooked up to his computer – StG began to understand.

"AVS walked for the first time earlier today–" Schuhart glanced up at his wall clock– "er, yesterday. I've been up all night tweaking the balance in the locomotive areas."

"You don't need to stay up fixing it, dad. The system works out calibration errors the more I walk."

"I know, I know. But I'd rather you not look like a cripple in front of the other dolls... why don't you go to sleep? You need some rest after today anyway."

"Not while you're working on my leg," AVS insisted, but she quit trying to argue. StG44 furrowed her brow at the conversation, but held her tongue. Quietly as she could, the doll crossed to the empty chair in the room and took a seat in it, folding her hands into her lap and patiently waiting for the engineer to finish his tinkering.

"So, StG," began Schuhart. "Busy week? Weeks?"

"Somewhat," StG said, not feeling very conversational with AVS-36 listening in.

"Hm. Well, I'm glad you haven't been very damaged. We had a doll in the repair bay last week that needed an actual engineer working on them before they got back to a stable condition. I swear, they get more reckless as time goes by…"

"But that recklessness means they've never been critically injured before," offered AVS-36. Schuhart nodded knowingly, a thin trail of smoke from the soldering iron twisting up into the air.

"Precisely. Does that mean you've been looking at combat reports?"

"Some." StG glanced at the core, which was starting to sound rather peppy. "I wanted to compare them to repair bay logs for any trends, but didn't have enough data yet. I think there'll be a connection, though."

"Clever." Schuhart leaned back from the leg and set aside his tools. For the first time, StG noticed a camera attached to one of the computer banks that seemed to track Schuhart's movements. She supposed it was AVS's way of watching her creator while not hooked up to her body. Schuhart stood and crossed over to the computer banks. "Bedtime, dear. You're up far too late as it is…"

"And whose fault is that?" AVS shot back. Schuhart smiled tiredly.

"Mine. Anything else to say?"

"G'night, dad."

"Night, dear." Schuhart leaned over the core and gave it a peck before pressing the button to send it into sleep mode. StG composed herself again and waited for him to address her. The IOP engineer heaved a sigh as he pulled his office chair over to his computer and sat down, running a hand over his hair and turning on the monitor. StG checked his personnel records. _He's 41._ Computer whines filled the silence again.

"Right, Digimind," Schuhart said suddenly, startling StG. "So, how much do you know about the whole modification process?"

"Expensive."

Schuhart chuckled. "Well, that's true. Either way, it's a lot of processor upgrades, some hardware stuff, obviously a Digimind update, stuff like that. Paid for by Griffin, of course, provided you get slated for the upgrade."

StG swallowed. She still needed to petition for that, though she had her doubts if Kerr or NTW-20 would approve the request. "We'll see."

"Hm. Well, the upgrade itself can take anywhere from weeks to the span of twelve hours, depending on what's being done. That itself is determined by your performance and what the Commander approves, so you should really have a talk with her and your unit leader about it. Have you?"

"No," StG admitted.

"I would do that. Griffin may be a corporation, but it can't escape bureaucracy…"

StG said nothing. Schuhart yawned loudly. "Hm… well, I guess I should just get some coffee and go through the rest of today. Busy?"

"Yes," StG said absentmindedly. Chrysanthemum was going to be heading out with Leonid today, working to clear another subsector of S17. StG hoped that there would be something interesting today – it had been nothing but forest and foothill for the past week.

"Well, don't get yourself blown up. I've had to supervise one too many repairs over the past two weeks, and I'd rather not see you as well."

_How concerned you are_, StG thought, recalling how Schuhart had spoken to AVS-36. She had heard about there being a new doll, knew that Schuhart was up to something, but no one else had been able to shed light on the rumors. She was just glad that AVS wasn't some sort of stuck-up like so many others. Schuhart swiveled to face StG.

"One more thing about the Digimind upgrade: You get a fresh gun with new attachments, and IOP engineers get to mess around with your cosmetic appearance."

"...mess around?" StG asked.

"New costume, maybe a different hairstyle, stuff like that. A lot of them seem to immediately regret design choices the instant they push the doll out, so they see upgrades as a chance to 'correct' what they think they did wrong."

"Huh." StG didn't exactly like the sound of that, but supposed that nothing came without a price. "I'll think about it."

"See that you do." Schuhart pushed out his chair and stood, stretched for a moment before tightening his tie knot and reaching for his white coat. For a contemporary roboticist, he dressed rather old-fashioned, but StG chose not to voice that particular thought. The engineer fixed his glasses and turned to the doll, smiling as he pulled open the door. "We best be going."

StG rose wordlessly and crossed to the door, turning once she was out to watch Schuhart. The IOP scientist gazed fondly at AVS-36's core one last time before picking up a briefcase from the floor and pulling the door closed. The two began walking back towards the elevator banks.

"Mikael!" shouted a voice from the elevator. StG looked up to see someone in a cleanroom suit and holding a mask marching down the hallway towards them.

"Alexei," Schuhart said warmly, widening his stride to close the distance, lab coat flapping up behind him. StG kept pace easily. "You're up early, your shift doesn't start unt–"

"I know." Alexei rubbed a gloved finger across a spot on his face mask anxiously as he fell in with Schuhart and StG. "Macek called me earlier, said something was going on."

Schuhart's humorously grin quickly melted into a frown. "What is it?"

"Her mental state – well, it started recovering, at first. Clarity of mind, less strain on the Digimind, all good things. Then it all went pear-shaped."

They entered the elevator and Schuhart hurriedly mashed the button for a level StG had never been to. "No breach of containment?"

"No, the restraints held. Barely, we think. She really went berserk." Alexei swallowed loudly. "I started drafting a report for 16Lab –"

"No need," Schuhart interrupted. "They've been dark the past few weeks. I'm willing to bet Persica's preoccupied with something big… or just too lazy to check her email. Regardless, we won't be getting any input from them. I'll send something to the IOP design board again, see if they bite this time."

"Right," said Alexei, and fell silent. Both of them seemed to have forgotten that StG was there. She checked the time. _0537._ The echelons sortied at 0630. She would have time to tag along on this, if Schuhart let her. She felt as if he was letting her join them. The elevator slowed to a halt and began opening, but Schuhart and Alexei were out before the doors had even drawn flush with the sides of the carriage. StG followed behind them, looking around the floor as she did. It appeared to be a separate part of the IOP factory, perhaps some sort of research and development area.

Another IOP technician, this one a woman, joined the three as they walked. "Here's the readout history from the past five hours," she said, offering a datapad to Schuhart. "This is where it spiked, and this is where we are now."

"Thanks, Sasha." Schuhart had switched into an entirely different mode than from how he had been with StG and AVS, dead serious and to the point. "Get me a phone, will you? I left mine in the office."

They arrived at a set of hazard-yellow doors. StG scrutinized the text on them as Schuhart swiped his ID card.

WARNING

DANGER OF SAPIENT ANDROID

_Brilliant_, StG thought. The doors opened, and they all stepped through.

Inside was a high-ceilinged, single-story lab area. In the center was a large, square test chamber of mostly metal with small, tempered glass portholes dotted across the walls. Surrounding it were diagnostic machines, tables, and, in the far corner, a weapons locker. StG stared long and hard at the yellow sign cautioning of laser radiation emblazoned on the locker. The room was full of IOP technicians, all of whom stared at the newcomers.

"Get back to it," the engineer barked, and everyone got back to it. "Alexei?"

"The windows, Mikael."

Without another word, the two each moved to a window, and StG decided to as well. The inside of the metal box was a homogenous, whitewashed room with absolutely no distinctive features except for the raised bed in the middle. On it was strapped a doll StG recognized – barely – as RPD. She had been stripped out of her uniform and dressed in clean white undergarments, though they did not look very new. The doll was thrashing about, pulling at her restraints and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Not that StG heard anything. She surmised that the room was soundproof and continued watching as RPD clenched and unclenched her fists, tearing at the palm of her hand with her fingernails. Coolant dripped to the floor in a steady stream, the self-sealing skin unable to patch itself when being repeatedly opened.

"Well, shit," said Schuhart.

"Language," muttered Alexei, but he didn't really seem to mean the words.

"Have you sent anyone in?"

"No, we kept containment."

"Good, that's good. Uh… use the remote instruments. Draw coolant, see if it's clean. Have you tried anything to subdue her?"

Alexei shrugged. "Her Digimind was unresponsive… or perhaps resilient."

Furrowing his brow, Schuhart said no more, and watched as a long, telescoping arm extended down from the ceiling, sticking itself into RPD's chest. The doll flailed ever the more furiously, if that was even possible, but the arm was quite unaffected, and withdrew quickly. StG looked to see one of the technicians standing by a station on the far wall, ready to receive the coolant sample.

"Sir, your phone," said the female technician, returning to Schuhart. He stared at it for a split second before taking it from her hand and dialing a few digits.

"Yes, it's Schuhart," he said. "I'm with RPD… No, it's not, it's getting worse. I'm going to– no, no. I don't think so. The restraints have worked fine up to now. Besides, we have weapons … if you want to, ma'am. No, of course … I'm working on it." Schuhart made eye contact with Alexei and performed a series of gestures, resulting in the technician hurrying away. "Soon. ASAP. You can come down if you want, but I guarantee you it won't be pretty. Yes. Well, no, but they should wait outside… policy. StG44 is in here. Yes, I allowed it... I'll have someone call you if anything happens. Yes, ma'am."

The phone call ended, and Schuhart handed the phone back to the woman. "Turn on the speakers, will you?"

"We, uh… not a good idea," she said.

"Just do it."

She moved to another side of the metal box and fiddled with something before the unpleasant, tortured screams of RPD filled the room. StG winced, but Schuhart only blinked.

"LET ME OUT! OUT! WHY DO YOU HAVE ME LIKE THIS?! AAAGH… I'LL MURDER YOU! ALL OF YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME… alone…"

"I think that's enough," said Schuhart, and the technician muted the speakers just as RPD was raising her voice again. The engineer licked his lips and swallowed, and for the first time StG saw an expression of trepidation flicker across his face.

"Sir, your suit is ready," Alexei said, returning. Schuhart nodded and turned to StG.

"This could end very poorly, so I would like it if… if you left."

"I– I'm sorry, sir?"

"Preferably now. This is confidential, after all, and Kerr didn't sound very happy with it. I let you down here to humor you, but now it's gotten serious enough to order you out. And suffice it to say that not a word of this is leaked."

StG pursed her lips, her gaze turning back up to the window, where RPD continued to struggle. The doll's silent screams echoed in her ears. "Yes, sir."


	22. SuperSASS Chapter 8

"SASS," said a voice, and SASS felt something brush her nose.

"Mmmmmgoway." SASS snorted and sighed, keeping her eyes tightly shut. She had been sleeping very well and refused to be woken by whatever kept touching her nose.

"And you called me mean," said the voice, and SASS felt something move before a hand brushed the side of her head, pushing her hair out of her face. "My feelings are hurt beyond repair…"

"Bite me," SASS grumbled, echoing something she remembered Grizzly shouting at M590 one night. The voice chuckled, and SASS just was ready to roll over and go back to sleep when she felt the blankets ripped away. "Hey!"

"Get up," NTW-20 said, turning away from the bed and bending down to pick her clothes up from the floor. Shivering from the sudden cold, SASS leaned off the bed to pick up her underwear, still reluctant to stand. "Come on!"

SASS grumbled, but stood, pulling on her pantyhose. NTW-20 already had hers on and was busy with her skirt. The floor was cold, and the room's spartan decoration made it feel even colder. _I had hoped her room would be nicer_, SASS thought, but ceded that NTW didn't seem like one for anything extra. Her bedside table had only a picture frame, analog watch, and a black-bound copy of a book with gold lettering. SASS squinted at the picture. In it, NTW smiled at the camera with her hand entangled in the snow-white hair of a Sangvis Ringleader. Some more dolls stood next to her, Type 79 and Tokarev, but there were two more that she failed to recognize. "Senpai–"

The top of her sailor uniform smacked her in the face and cut her off. "Finish getting dressed, then we can talk," NTW-20 said, pulling her own uniform over her head. SASS pulled hers into her arms and stared at NTW for a little bit before doing the same. "I think I look cute, don't you?"

SASS looked up and saw NTW posing in SASS's grey jacket. "Hey, give that back!"

"No," NTW said. "It's super comfortable… no wonder you always have it on."

"Yes, and that's why I'd like it back!" SASS stood up and quickly walked over to NTW, who took a step back for every one SASS took forward. Feinting to the left, SASS pounced and managed to pull a sleeve off before NTW got away again. "It doesn't even match the black, you know."

"I guess so," NTW ceded. "Still, it's really warm. You sure you don't have a spare or anything?"

"Certainly not." SASS resisted the urge to smile at her senpai as she tugged the other sleeve off and reclaimed her jacket, putting it on to complete the ensemble. "Oh, it sort of smells like you."

NTW grinned. "Did you enjoy last night?"

"...yes," SASS blushed, remembering the night before, and the other times in the two weeks since the concert at the café. "It was… very nice."

"'Very nice'," NTW said. "I'm _flattered._"

"You know how I felt!" SASS bit her lip. NTW looked at her and smiled, but said nothing else on the matter, instead walking over to the bed.

"You were going to say something earlier?"

"...yeah, about the photo. I don't recognize some of the dolls in it."

NTW sat down and picked up the picture frame, studying it for a while. SASS sat next to her and waited patiently, suspecting that NTW was thinking about more than just who was in the photo.

"This one's HK33," she said finally, pointing to one. "And the other is M1895 CB. They used to be old members of Hunter, during the transition period."

"Transition?"

"Er, after KSG and ACR left. They – Powell, the Commander back in S16 – made me squad leader and put in these other two as temporary members. It lasted a little longer than I expected, but FAMAS and StG came along soon enough."

"_Were they an improvement or a step down?" _SASS wanted to ask, but held her tongue. NTW stared a while longer before heaving a sigh and replacing the picture frame on the table.

"They were a good team." She stood, and SASS did as well. NTW placed a hand on SASS's shoulder and smiled gently, genuinely. "I'm sure you'd be an excellent member, if you ever joined."

"Thanks," SASS said, doubting she would ever get the chance. NTW put her arms around SASS and pulled her in, giving her a tight hug. SASS returned the gesture and buried her face in NTW's neck. Her pink hair smelled like nitroglycerin, metal, and coolant, and SASS loved it despite the pungent odor. "I should probably start heading back now."

"Yeah." NTW-20 rubbed SASS's back before breaking away. "The others are probably back."

They were. FAMAS and Type 79 sat at the kitchen bar while Tokarev worked the stove on the other side. The brown-haired doll turned to see NTW and SASS as they entered, adding a smile directed towards SASS.

"How was the poker game?" NTW-20 asked. FAMAS whipped around to face her.

"K5, _ce_ _putain de tricheur–_"

"K5 played fair and square," Type 79 retorted. "You're just annoyed at not winning as much as you wanted."

"I won plenty." FAMAS huffed and crossed her arms as Tokarev placed two plates of food in front of her and Type 79.

"NTW, would you like me to make you a plate? SASS?"

SASS looked to NTW, who shrugged. "If you want to stay, you can. It's the weekend, after all."

"I guess it is." SASS took a seat at the bar, and Tokarev smiled before turning back to the stove. It was warm by the kitchen, and even on the barstool SASS felt herself feeling tired again. NTW nudged her periodically.

"Any word on how the operation is going?" FAMAS asked, taking a bite of her toast. NTW shrugged again.

"Slowly, but it's working. Sangvis is tenacious, though Jericho isn't keen on letting them keep any land. I don't really attend many or hear much about the strategy meetings, just what I overhear or what gets passed down."

"And the Ringleader?" Type 79 said. NTW shrugged for a third time, saying nothing. Tokarev finished scooping food onto two places and placed them in front of NTW and SASS. The smell was enticing, and SASS started eating right away.

"Have you heard anything about 44?" Tokarev asked from the sink, washing her hands. NTW swallowed awkwardly.

"She's, uh, doing fine. Better than I thought she would in Chrysanthemum, actually."

"Hopefully CBJ-MS will teach her something," FAMAS said, poking at crumbs with the tines of her fork. "44 has too much leeway."

"Care to elaborate on that?" NTW said coldly, not looking up from her plate.

"Certainly," FAMAS started. "You see, StG–"

"I don't care about what you think about 44." NTW set her silverware down and stared at FAMAS. "But when you complain that she has too much leeway, you're judging my choices as leader."

The green-haired doll studied NTW for a moment, her mouth a thin line. "I'm not saying you made a poor choice. It's objectively true that Hunter Squadron fosters 44's behavior, and I hope that CBJ-MS will help her recognize that she needs to conform before Kerr or anyone else accepts her. If she doesn't get her temper under control, she'll just keep looking like a child throwing a tantrum."

Type 79 nodded in agreement. "I think CBJ is the one to do it. The one time I met her, she seemed like such a natural leader that I wanted to apply for a transfer…"

SASS noticed that NTW looked a little sheepish and leaned over, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Senpai, I think you're a great leader and teacher."

"Thank you," NTW said under her breath, flashing a smile at SASS. "Isn't Z-62 CBJ's second in command?"

"Yes." Type 79 flexed her joints as she spoke, and for the first time SASS noticed that she bent her prosthetic fingers both ways. She supposed that it was purely for looks, since prosthetic joints couldn't be cracked, but it still seemed surreal. "She's reserved, but exactly the sort of person who would a good lieutenant."

NTW laughed, and SASS saw her glance at Tokarev. "I get it. Is she good in combat?"

"I heard that she used to have a lot of trouble, back when she was in another sector. S18, I think, then Kerr got her transferred here a while ago and she joined Chrysanthemum in the last year or so. Groomed, you might say.

"It really seems like Kerr likes bringing dolls into S17," FAMAS said. "She's importing talent, almost."

"It makes sense," replied NTW-20, scooping a final forkful of eggs into her mouth. "She's trying to squeeze the best she can out of the IOP dolls Griffin gets. We have defects, and she wants the dolls that can improve, or that are so good she can overlook their issues. Think about it: all the dolls here are experienced, or driven, or show promise… That's why she pulls dolls like 44 out of S09 and into S17. She's cherry picking the best dolls from anywhere she can, essentially."

"Kerr thinks 44 has promise?" FAMAS asked, more curious than incredulous.

"You don't?"

"So how much of S17 is actually from S17?" Type 79 asked.

"Everyone." NTW-20 pushed her plate away from her. "It doesn't matter what sector you were made in or delivered to. We're all in S17 now. We all work in the same place, with the same people, for the same person. I don't think a lot of us are from S17, but it doesn't really matter. We're all part of it now."

A silence fell across the kitchen. SASS swallowed her toast and stared at the linoleum counter, willing for someone to say something, anything. Ingram had been from S09, had been an import… SASS wondered where the others were from. Grizzly and M590 seemed to know a lot about S17, sure, but that was part of their job. RFB never talked about her past… she never had the time.

"I miss S16," FAMAS said. "It was so clear-cut then."

"Mm," said Type 79. Tokarev picked up NTW's empty plate and went to the sink.

"I wonder what's up with Powell. He seemed pretty stressed out when we left."

"Let's not talk about it," NTW said. "Not… now."

SASS ate the rest of her breakfast as quickly as she could and let Tokarev take her plate. "Well, senpai, I should be going! Thank you for the breakfast, Tokarev."

"Absolutely," the blue-haired doll smiled, and NTW turned her head to look at SASS. Her face had grown long, and smiled only faintly at SASS as the doll retreated to the door.

"I'll talk to you later."


	23. Makarov Chapter 2

When she came to, the hallway was a mess of rubble, dust, and fire. The lights had been knocked out, the emergency PA system broken and spewing unintelligible rubbish. Everything was washed in a red-orange glow from the alert lights and fire, making the entire hallway uncomfortably hellish. Bodies, both Griffin and Sangvis, lay strewn across the corridor, periodic weapons fire echoing around them.

Makarov slowly climbed to her feet, chunks of concrete dust falling away from her once-bright blue clothes. The explosion had come suddenly, loudly, rippling towards where Makarov had been and knocking loose a piece of stone that put her out of the fight. Anyone who had been with her at the time was either fled or killed by Sangvis, which had flooded the corridor like insects, gunning down any doll or human they saw. Makarov picked her pistol up from the ground and checked to make sure it was in working order.

She was largely uninjured, thankfully, save for some cuts and bruises. The doll immediately started down the corridor. It was imperative that she determine if Commander Kerr was still alive, still able to command – that was her prime directive. The comms system was down, she discovered, and Makarov was on the Doll Services level, three levels below where she could get to the command wing. The elevators would be just down the hallway and around the corner.

Doll Services was not just one level, but three – one for neural cloud storage, doll dossiers, and cores, a second for batteries, coolant vats, and clothes, and a third for the combat simulation bays and accompanying infrastructure. Makarov was on the second level, below neural cloud storage and above the combat simulators. She had been performing a routine inspection of the storage rooms, checking in with their doll managers and the contents itself.

Makarov took her scarf and wrapped it around her mouth and nose, covering them from the dust and soot particles floating in the air. She was not nearly as severely affected by them as humans, but the particulates still impeded her performance, and Makarov wouldn't have that.

"...three, two, one… pull harder!"

"I'm pulling as hard as I bloody can!"

Makarov turned into the alcove that the elevator banks were in to see two dolls straining at one of the elevator doors, trying to force an opening into the shaft. Rubble had been hurriedly shoved out of the way, and their weapons lay discarded on the floor.

"Forget it!" said the first one, stepping away from the door and shaking her hands. "It's sealed tight. We're stuck down here…" She turned away from the elevator as the other doll kept trying the door, and her eyes lighted upon Makarov. "Oh!"

"Sangvis?!" cried the other doll

"No…" The first doll hurriedly picked up her gun from the ground and approached Makarov, briefly removing her green hat. "F1 at your service, commie!"

"I beg your pardon?" Makarov asked, not believing her audio input equipment.

"I said, those Sangvis hit us like a tsunami." F1 brushed some dust off her cap and set it back on her head. "We're the only ones left on this side of the level. Everyone's fled, or…"

"All the elevators are non-functioning?" Makarov asked, looking over to where the other doll, Bren, was hefting her own weapon up and coming up behind F1. "I need to get off this floor."

"Yeah, well, so did the others," said Bren, and Makarov looked back at the bodies for a moment. "Anyone who lived went farther down to the stairwell."

"And you stayed?" Makarov asked evenly. F1 shrugged.

"We wanted to try our luck on the elevator. Maybe wait out this attack, whatever it is."

"'Whatever it is?'" scoffed Bren. "It's Sangvis, don't play dumb."

"How did you two survive without following the others?" Makarov asked.

"We did follow the others, at first. Then we hid and came back this way when… when it passed us." F1 adjusted her bag so it sat more comfortably on her shoulder, simultaneously averting her gaze.

"Well," said Makarov. "I'm going down to the stairwell, and you'll be much more useful coming with me than you will at this elevator."

"When you put it like that," muttered Bren, but the two of them followed her anyway.

"Point of entry – best assessment?" Makarov asked Bren as they walked along. She certainly seemed the more experienced between her and F1, so Makarov was inclined to hear her thoughts.

"Explosives, digging through the mountain, maybe using old Soviet passageways," Bren offered. "We stopped trying to map all the abandoned hallways after the last cave-in."

"Agreed." Makarov had not yet seen a hole or forced entrypoint of any kind just yet.

All the rooms they passed on their walk down the hallway were either sealed shut or blackened by Sangvis weapons fire, their contents melted and any dolls inside thoroughly dead. Most of them had been killed by plasma weaponry, but a few had been stabbed or mauled, missing limbs and leaking coolant. Makarov recalled the strategy meeting two weeks ago, and what Schuhart had said about SV-98's corpse, or how Ingram had met her end. Her stomach twisted at the knowledge of what must have done such a thing to the dolls in front of her now. _The curse of knowing everything._

"Crikey, look at that," said F1, toeing m45 over so she faced up. "Something really got at her. If I didn't know better, it's like she was… gored."

"Guards have bayonets on their weapons," Bren observed. "Maybe things got so close they started using those instead of shooting. Just Vespids laying around, though…"

Makarov looked ahead and saw a Ripper attempted to lift itself up, but its legs were unresponsive. Like a dumb, paralyzed animal, it weakly crawled through a puddle of its own coolant, eyes staring ahead blankly through its cracked visor. Makarov aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger, and in the resultant crack the Ripper sank to the floor.

At that moment, F1 shrieked, and Makarov whipped around to see her trying to pull her leg free from the Vespid that had taken it in a tight grip. "GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF BREN DOSOMETHINGDOSOMETHINGDOSOMETHING–"

The machine gun doll responded by landing a mighty kick on the Sangvis doll, but the tenacious enemy was only mildly perturbed by the attack and kept its grip. By now, several more Sangvis had come to life, all of them wounded, yet active on a feral level. Bren's gun discharged as she fired into the head of the Vespid holding F1, and the submachine gun jumped free. "Thanks, mate!"

"Focus," Bren said, having also taken notice of the Sangvis dolls crawling towards them. In the crimson red of the emergency lights, it was a disturbing scene, but Bren and F1 acted admirably well, following Makarov's lead as she aimed and fired at any Sangvis that moved. Aim, fire, aim, fire, until her gun clicked empty and she dropped the magazine. Bren was having trouble swinging her gun around fast enough and she was always backing up to have time to aim, while F1 was busy dancing away from Sangvis hands and fiddling with new magazines.

"To me!" said Makarov, running to the end of the hallway. More Sangvis had woken, grasping for purchase on the smooth rock floor. Bren's weapon discharged once more before she broke away from the Sangvis dolls and started after Makarov, F1 close on her heels. The three paused to gun down any Vespids or Rippers who had gotten too close, continuing to back towards the doorway at the end of the hallway. Some of the Sangvis had staggered upright, shambling toward the three startlingly fast.

Footsteps sounded behind Makarov and another doll entered the fray, raising her wood-furnished rifle and squeezing off several rounds square into the heads of the standing Sangvis, toppling them back to the ground to block their comrades' progress. "Come though and I'll seal the doors!" she said between shots.

As the four withdrew past the threshold, the new doll hurried to the control panel and flung the lever, triggering the metal door to slide across and lock with a muffled scrape of metal.

"I had no idea there were still dolls on that end of the hallway," said the doll, dressed in a simple green dress. "You're lucky I was here to help you guys out!"

"We had it handled," huffed Bren, rearing up to her full height. F1 punched her on the arm.

"Sure we did. I'm F1, and this is Bren," she said to the new doll.

"Type 63," she replied. "Makarov, right? Type 59 talks about you a lot, I could recognize that hat anywhere…"

"I see," Makarov said carefully, thinking about her weird, quasi-relative. "Are you with anyone down here?"

"No. Type 64… well, she and 59 were down here with me, but they didn't make it. I was moving with the main force towards the stairwell, but I got left behind and decided to come back and see if anyone else was alive. And you guys were here, so…" Type 63 smiled despite the mood, which made F1 grin too. Makarov nodded.

"So the fighting is upstairs now?"

"Yes, on the next level. Sangvis is pushing towards the main level, I think, at least that's what Type 92 was saying. I'm not sure right now."

_That would make sense, if they knew how the base worked_, Makarov realized. "We three are headed toward the fight, if you care to join us."

"Sure!" said Type 63. "I don't really know how well I'll do, but I'll try my best!"

"That's the spirit!" F1 said, but Makarov did not share her optimistic tone.

"We need to get moving before Sangvis leaves the next level. We might be able to stop them before any serious damage is done to the rest of the base." _Not that there hasn't been any serious damage already,_ Makarov thought, but she declined to share that. "Let's go, quick as you can."

Far fewer Sangvis corpses lay on the ground on this side of the door. It was mostly Griffin dolls that lay slumped on the ground or against the wall, cartridge casings littering the floor and skittering away from Makarov's feet as she stepped through the battlefield. Only a few Sangvis dolls had been slain, it appeared, and Makarov grew worried. Maybe – she hoped – the Griffin dolls simply hadn't had time to set up an effective defense, or there weren't many on the level. The doll didn't like the idea of being totally outmatched by Sangvis. She tried the comms again, but still nothing.

"F1?" Bren asked suddenly.

"Yeah?" replied the doll.

"What exactly happened earlier? You said you were awake for most of it, right?"

"All of it, actually." Makarov started listening more attentively. "I was in battery storage when I heard the explosion, and then the fighting broke out… we managed to push them back at first, but when Sangvis started coming at us and winning I ducked into a side room the first chance I got. I found you on the floor, fainted–"

"Whoa, wait, I did not faint. Something knocked me out," Bren excused, sounding quite offended.

"Fine, just keep lying to yourself," F1 replied. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"You guys were back by battery storage?" Type 63 joined in. "I was in the coolant vats. Type 92 was with me, she was directing the defense."

"Yes, she said she was going to try to set up a redoubt further ahead…"

"It didn't work out, obviously."

A few tables and shelves had been dragged out of rooms and turned over to make barricades. All of them were full of holes, some bent out of shape or turned aside entirely. Makarov saw SSG 69 draped over a table, rifle dangling from her dead hands as coolant slowly ran down her back. Makarov pushed her over with a booted foot, revealing a large chest wound. The doll peered into it. "This is a large caliber bullet wound, from close range."

"Sangvis uses plasma weapons," Bren said. "Friendly fire?"

"Or a Ringleader," said Makarov, thinking back to the debriefing Grizzly had given the command team on her engagement with the Sangvis Ringleader in the hangar. They had decided on a codename for it – "Gestalt" – for how it took other dolls' parts and used them on itself. Gestalt, they knew, had at the very least a very large handgun with an equally enormous bore, not to mention its propensity for melee and stealth. Its unpredictability alone made it terrifically difficult to plan for, nevermind its uncanny ability in close-quarters combat. _Or any combat_, mused Makarov, since no one was quite sure of what Gestalt _couldn't_ do. It had yet to engage Griffin in an open field, that was for sure, but perhaps it was just waiting for a chance. _If_ that handgun wound on SSG 69 was from Gestalt – ditto for the dolls with slash and stab wounds – Makarov wondered what it would really take to repel this Sangvis attack. At least they were not sure of Gestalt's command ability, but it was quite solid so far.

_It_. Assigning female pronouns to the Ringleader was beyond anything Makarov, or the rest of the command team, was comfortable doing. Yes, it shared the female _form_, but that was really where the similarities ended. It had no personality to speak of, no facial features, no skin, synthetic or otherwise. It didn't even try to pretend to be human, from what they knew. _So precious little._ Makarov hated an enemy like this, they could be powerful or weak and she would never know. It fed her paranoia, worked like a bug through her digimind, worrying at her sanity and making her question every decision she made. _A Commander must always make sound judgements_, Kerr had told her when she first joined the command team. How could Makarov make sound judgements about an enemy such as this?

Gestalt was more dangerous than any Ringleader she had fought before. Area S17 had seen its fair share of those elite Sangvis dolls over the years, and defeated them all. Makarov had heard tell of Ringleaders even more fearsome from out of the sector – Executioner, Alchemist, Dreamer, Judge, Gager – but they, at least, were in the open. Sangvis had rarely been ones for stealth, so no one in Griffin, aside from some dolls more experienced than others, were prepared.

This information had not been officially disseminated to S17's doll populace outside of the need-to-know members of the command team, so Makarov merely said "But I doubt it was. Sangvis would never bring a command unit this close to Griffin, not with so many friendly dolls here." _Not that I believe it._ It was a way to reassure her teammates, making them think that they were too good for Sangvis to risk approaching them. Which could be true, she admitted, but the more dead dolls she saw in the hallway, the less she believed it was.

The background weapons fire was getting louder as the four approached the stairwell. Bren and F1 whispered amongst themselves, Makarov catching bits of their conversation.

"...you can't even suppress Sangvis dolls, use single shots to save ammo…"

"...are you going to be okay without dummies?"

"I'll be fine, I've still got a few smoke grenades…"

Type 63 came up on Makarov's left. "Miss, what's your plan for when we get up there?"

"Support the dolls however we can. If we can come up behind Sangvis… well, we try our best. I don't know what their numbers are. What sort of dolls are up there?"

"We didn't have a lot down here when the attack happened," Type 63 said dejectedly. "I honestly don't know who might be left. I think Type 92 was leading the retreat, but she might be gone by now. RMB-93 was there last, I think, Galil too…"

_The B-team_, Makarov thought. Low in IOP's commercial rating system, like her. _It's just a metric for marketing, nothing more,_ she reminded herself. Still, there was a reason why five-stars were so often called the elite T-dolls. Makarov knew she was working with one hand tied behind her back with the team she had now. But she would get along.

They reached the stairwell and starting climbing, single file. Makarov kept her pistol at the ready, prepared to dump the mag into any Sangvis that appeared. None did, though plenty of dead dolls had been pushed against the walls of the stairwell. A blast mark and shards of shrapnel on the landing denoted a grenade impact. Everyone quieted as they stepped through the door onto the first floor.

_This _was a battlefield. This hallway was much wider, with smaller corridors branching off at regular intervals. The junction, far ahead, was a wide square area populated with T-dolls from both sides. Sangvis had somehow maneuvered in front of the Griffin force, which was slow pursuing Sangvis as the enemy continued moving away from the GnK dolls. Despite their clearly thinned numbers, Griffin was fighting ferociously, constantly harassing the Sangvis troops with bullets and the occasional grenade. They had thrown up more makeshift barricades from furniture, using it as cover against Sangvis fire.

The emergency lights continued to douse the entire floor in its murky light, making it exceedingly difficult to focus on anything too dark or too far away. The four ran to the Griffin line, one of the dolls there noticing them as she ducked down to reload.

"What's going on here?" Makarov shouted over the weapons fire. She identified the doll as M1 Garand based on her weapon and outfit. The blonde doll shoved a clip into her rifle and released the bolt.

"Sangvis blew straight through our line and forced us to start following them! They've been moving way slower now, but we can't tell why…"

Makarov peered over the cover. Sangvis dolls were standing in rank about twenty meters away, slowly stepping back through the junction. There was no Ringleader in sight, only Vespids and Rippers. Makarov crouched back down. "Who's in command?"

"Type 92! She went ahead with a team on a flanking attack through the data center, we haven't heard back yet. M99 is putting together a team to go after her, they're to the left!"

_M99._ That was an elite doll. Not like NTW-20, granted, but she had a powerful gun and knew how to use it, and she lead an echelon. Makarov nodded to Garand. "Got it. Are we still taking losses?"

"Yes, and we're starting to run low on ammunition. I didn't know there was anyone left alive down there…"

The metal table they crouched behind rattled from renewed Sangvis fire, and Garand broke off talking to get on a knee and put her rifle over the edge, returning fire. Makarov turned to her companions. "We need to join M99. I've got to talk to Type 92!"

"Roger that," Bren said, and F1 and Type 63 nodded in agreement, suddenly serious. Makarov looked to the left, where a couple of dolls were running through a doorway into the adjacent rooms.

"Let's go!"

The side rooms were, thankfully, much less active. Tag teams of SMGs and ARs were working together to advance, one taking point while the other covered them. Sten and L85 were advancing side by side, methodically clearing rooms. These were mostly rooms full of filing cabinet for all of the paper data kept in S17 – dossiers for dolls, physical blueprints, backups in case the computer system went down. Sangvis apparently wasn't interested, because there was no evidence of even a single attempt to gain entry to the area. Makarov followed in the footsteps of the clearing teams, keeping an eye out for M99 anywhere.

"Макарова?" asked a familiar voice, and the doll looked to see AK-47 approaching her, rifle shouldered. Makarov blinked in surprise.

"AK-47?"

"That's me," said the doll, grinning at Makarov. PP-19 came up beside her, face as neutral as ever. AK-47 shouldered her rifle. "I didn't expect to see you. Figured you'd be up in the command center with Kerr."

"I was down here when the attack happened," Makarov replied, still feeling a little shocked. "How's the fight going for you?"

"Great. PP-19 and I have killed too many Sangvis to count. Hopefully we can keep them down here, away from the rest of the base. Away from the…"

_Humans_, Makarov finished, thinking of the organic troops in the upper levels. Disciplined, competent, but not capable of picking up the slack if the dolls failed to contain the Sangvis incursion. "Yeah. Have you seen M99?"

"Right here," M99 said, emerging from another room with several dolls in tow. Her voice was small, much like herself – the doll's namesake weapon was huge in her arms, and she was at least a head shorter than Makarov, if not more. Bren covered a smile, F1 elbowed her friend. "I didn't expect you here, Makarov."

"I need to talk to Type 92," Makarov repeated. "Garand said you were headed after her."

"That would be correct. You're welcome to come, I'll take all the dolls who want to and who I can spare. I've already got–" she looked over her shoulder– "two, so another four will make it a good number."

"I'll come," said AK-47. M99 nodded.

"Eight. Makarov, I… well, I don't know exactly what's standing between us and Type 92, if she's even still alive. She could be surrounded, captured, dead, hacked, so this could just be a suicide run."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." It was a risk – but was it a worthy one? _Yes_. Type 92 probably knew the most about the attack out of any doll here. She could be the key to getting communications with Kerr, to stopping Sangvis here. And if not, than they could still drive towards the stairwell and escape to Kerr.

"Right. Well, we ought to head out." M99 looked around one last, then started through the doorway. "Good luck, everyone."

They proceeded through the first few rooms without incident, but eventually they came upon one of the side hallways. A detachment of Griffin dolls had set up a defense at the far end, which Sangvis was suppressing with a continuous hail of plasma fire that made the hallway impossible to cross. AK-47 stepped forward.

"I've got this," she said, loading her underbarrel grenade launcher. The doll leaned against the wall and peered out the doorway at an angle. After a split second of aiming, the grenade flew from the barrel with a loud _crack,_ followed by an explosion that resounded through the narrow hallway.

"Move!" shouted M99, and AK-47 dashed across to the doorway on the other side, Makarov close behind. She glanced sideways in the direction of the Sangvis, glimpsing a pile of bodies with more Vespids running in to continue the firefight. "Weapons up," said the diminutive doll. "We're the first ones going through this area since Type 92."

An explosion had broken the doorway into the next room, so F1 had to crouch if she were to get through. The doll grumbled as she got down on her hands and knees. "Sangvis buggers, making it so much harder to do my job…"

"Don't tell me you joined Griffin thinking it'd be _easy_." Bren tapped F1's behind with her boot. "Just get through and look around."

"Yeah… there's no link between this room, it just goes straight ahead," the doll reported, voice muffled from behind the wall.

"There's another doorway next to it," said AK-47, pointing to the right.

"We split up," M99 decided. "Type 63, M21, M500, go with F1. I'll take the others and head down the other set of rooms, and we should meet up at the end. Make noise if you see anything."

"Copy that," said Type 63, crawling through the broken doorway. The others started down the parallel hallway. They were on the actual data side of the level now, but the expedition had only passed through the interface area so far. This was where technicians could draw information from the databanks and restore dolls' neural clouds. Every room had a certain number of computer terminals and corresponding "couches" for dolls to rest on. The "couch" was really a contoured surface set at a steep angle that a doll could lie on whenever moving into different levels of consciousness was needed.

Some of the terminals and couches had been destroyed, but many lay untouched, leading Makarov to believe that any damage was collateral on the part of Sangvis. They had busted through any security doors with overwhelming firepower, any Griffin dolls left in the rooms quickly gunned down. Makarov constantly strained her ears, searching for anything – how the other team was faring, if Sangvis was ahead, a sign of Type 92 – but only the constant firework explosion and crackle of the ongoing battle behind them reached her ears. Looking behind her – AK-47 grinned reassuredly, but Bren was wide eyed, keeping a tight grip on her weapon. Makarov wondered what exactly she was thinking.

They came upon a security door that had not been busted through and was in fact still locked. M99 approached it, eyeing the magnetic lock and security interface. "Sangvis found a way through?"

"Or they had a Griffin doll with clearance," Bren said.

"Only designated security dolls, technicians, and select members of the command staff had clearance," M99 said. "And Sangvis killed them all."

"Unless they managed to pull security codes from somewhere else," said Makarov. "I have clearance to open the lock. The databanks are on the other side."

"Bren, behind me," said M99. "Makarov, you step aside once you open the door. We'll lead the way, and hopefully F1 and the others are on the other side. AK-47, please stay here and guard our backs."

Makarov nodded and approached the keypad. It was mechanical, Soviet vintage, but her fingers worked with automated precision. _Vasily pavel zero eight eight olga nikolai six three four fyodor niner. _The keypad chimed and the door began to swing open. M99 advanced as quick as she could with her unwieldy weapon, Bren close behind. "All clear…" said the doll. Makarov made to follow Bren through the doorway.

"No, wait, contact!" Bren shouldered her weapon and was ready to fire at the movement when M99 held up a hand.

"It's Type 92!"

It was Type 92, but not in any condition to talk. Makarov caught a glimpse of her tattered clothing and torn hair as the doll stumbled from inside the server stacks and against the wall, raising her pistol to point at something inside. _Gestalt. _Makarov's stomach twisted in fear as it emerged – a lithe black shadow in the emergency red half-light, Type 92's shots bouncing off its armor.

"G-g-get away from me," the doll managed to say before Gestalt raised an arm and thrust forward, driving the point of its long, thin spike straight through Type 92's core. The body went limp instantly.

"What the hell–"

"Shoot it!" M99 ordered, but before anyone could so much as pull their trigger, something leapt from one of the server stacks at Gestalt, a green blur.

"F1!" Bren shouted as the doll let rip with her submachine gun, clinging to the Ringleader's back. Gestalt twisted around for a moment before bending its joints backward and reaching behind it to yank the Griffin doll off it and hurl her to the ground. With a loud groan of protesting metal, the Sangvis raised a foot and stomped down hard on F1's head. "NO!"

"Bren–" Makarov tried to grab the machine gun doll, but it was useless. She had already stepped forward and let loose with a burst of .303 before running at Gestalt, ready to strike at it with her weapon. One of her bullets struck the Ringleader, staggering it, but the black-armored doll recovered quickly enough to grab Bren by the neck and lift her kicking off the ground. Makarov resisted the urge to rush in with her pistol, knew it would do no good, that it was tactically unsound – Bren choked at the Ringleader's grip, struggled – she had to do _something –_

A thunderclap rattled the entire room, and Gestalt suddenly released Bren and dropped low. M99 had sighted and fired her weapon, and now the doll looked back at Makarov. "Stay here with Bren. The other three who were with F1 must be in here, I've got to go look for them. Just–" She glanced at Bren, who was slowly getting up from the floor and crawling towards her gun. "That'll do an okay job at keeping it away."

She moved off. Makarov heaved a sigh of relief as Bren stood and walked toward her, massaging her throat. The doll was silent, staring forlornly at F1's corpse, too scared to approach it if Gestalt was still nearby. Makarov ordered herself to stay calm, to think rationally. It was the only way she could approach this situation without breaking down. _This is what happens when I stop doing field work._

"I… I pushed her through that hole," Bren mumbled. "I should've… made her stay…"

It wasn't Makarov's job to reassure dolls like this. She opened her mouth, but for a little bit no words came out. "She was–"

"Doing her duty. And so was I. It doesn't make me feel any better. And now all that's left of her is whatever's in _there–"_ Bren pointed to the databanks full of neural cloud data. "But it's missing _this_. We were in it together… we've always been… and she won't remember."

Makarov said nothing. She could say nothing.

Bren started as the sounds of a fight reached their ears. M99's weapon fired once, twice, thrice, closer each time. On the third, one of the server stacks sparked went dark, and just as M99 ran back out into the open, Gestalt emerged a few seconds after. The doll turned around and lifted her rifle in a defensive posture before the Sangvis raised its spiked arm and thrust forward, bending the rifle effortlessly and driving the point straight into M99's shoulder.

Gestalt straightened up and reached out to yank the rifle off the end of its spike, tossing it aside and turning its masked stare toward Makarov and Bren. M99 had apparently managed to hit the Ringleader, since two holes spotted its torso and abdomen. Curiously enough, no coolant leaked from them. _Self-healing?_ Makarov wondered, simultaneously cursing herself for not focusing on the matter at hand.

Bren stepped forward as close as she dared before firing. At first, Gestalt tried to stand its ground, bullets ricocheting off the armor, but when one of Bren's shots found its mark at Gestalt's shoulder joint, the Ringleader broke off and entered the server stacks again.

"M99! Bren, keep an eye out!" Makarov found herself saying, stepping forward and kneeling next to the doll. "How bad is it?"

"Not good," said M99. "Nailed the shoulder… I can't move the arm. Look, you… you have to leave. Type 92 is dead, you won't get anything from her. That Sangvis is still in here. You've only got so much time."

"The databanks," Makarov said fiercely. It was ridiculous to even consider condoning and action that would leave such valuable information open for Sangvis to access.

"No time to secure, if we even could. It's _Sangvis_, it'll hack in no matter what we do, if it hasn't already. Just get out of the room, and lock the door." M99 raised her head to peer at Type 92's corpse against the wall, looking back to Makarov. "You're in command now."

Makarov nodded slowly. She had a command module, yes, and the dolls would need direction with M99 and Type 92 out of the picture. "Bren?"

The doll was gone from her position. Makarov hurriedly stood and swung her gaze around – there, by the end of one of the stacks. _F1, of course_. She stood and approached the other doll. "Bren, we've got to go _now_."

"Not without her," the red-uniformed doll insisted. Makarov looked back and forth between the two for a second.

"No. I'm sorry, but–"

"No!" Bren shouted. "Never!"

Makarov grabbed Bren's collar and wrenched back. "Get on your feet, damnit! We'll come back for her!" She shoved Bren towards the door and marched back toward M99. "You'll get yourself killed, and the rest of us to boot!"

"Go to hell," Bren muttered, but she lifted her gun and followed Makarov anyway. The Russian doll seized M99 by the armpits and walked back towards the door as quickly as she could, dropping the weight as soon as she could and waving Bren inside before getting the door closed. Another go at the keypad, and the door began closing painfully slow. Makarov looked until the last second at the bodies of Type 92 and F1, then the door shut and the magnetic locks slid into place.


	24. StG44 Chapter 7

"Linking into the command network now. Everyone, standby for link."

It was loud in the old Soviet elevator, and painfully slow. The carriage creaked down at a snail's pace, ponderously approaching the second level of Doll Services, as if sensing the apprehension and hesitation of the dolls inside.

StG looked around. There was another echelon packed into the elevator in addition to Chrysanthemum, and a few dolls on the security team were tagging along as well. Everyone was tense, they had heard what was going on on the lower levels. A Sangvis attack, dozens of dolls dead, and the memory databanks raided. No one needed to be told what that meant – if their neural cloud backups were lost, it could mean permanent death for all of them. The doll swallowed.

The doll felt a tug at the nape of her neck as CBJ-MS pulled the rest of Chrysanthemum into the command net. She could vaguely sense the presence of the command doll in the area: Makarov. CBJ-MS's voice filtered in over Zener. "Our orders are to clear out the Sangvis and force them outside of the base. Standby for further orders when we arrive."

To her left, Saiga-12 was doing another check of her gear, patting pockets and pouches and finally running her hands over her gun. The shotgun doll glanced sideways at StG as the elevator began slowing to a halt and its doors creaked open. The sounds of weapons fire echoed into the carriage, but StG showed no hesitation as she stepped out and began walking down the hallway.

"Attention reinforcements." Makarov's voice spoke directly from inside StG's metal skull. "The Sangvis assault is pushing us toward their initial point of entry, we believe that they're trying to make their escape. Your _revised_ orders are to come up behind their back line and keep them distracted long enough for us to set up a lasting defense, which should allow us to stop them from escaping."

Immediately after Makarov finished speaking, StG felt the tug at her mind: the compulsion to follow the command doll's orders exactly and to the best of her ability, even if it meant death. That was what dolls with command modules could do. It was one thing to take orders from CBJ-MS – the black-haired doll was right alongside StG, doubtlessly feeling the exact same tug – but another entirely from a command doll. StG hated it. She hated the sense that her orders were more than orders, they were an _imperative_. It was an insult to her autonomy, which had grown and grown under NTW-20.

Of course, the orders really were an imperative in this case. They weren't token combat commands like CBJ-MS gave, or patrol orders, or the instinctive commands NTW-20 gave over Zener – these orders were much more important than simply scrapping Sangvis. There was a Ringleader, and this had been an attack on the base. Action was needed. It was imperative.

The two echelons ran down the hallway, ready for the first sign of the Sangvis rear line. Unlike the dolls who had been at Doll Services during the attack, StG and her comrades were ready, with full dummy links and plenty of ammunition. The dolls from the security team had already split off to monitor the destruction while the rest continued towards the battle. StG still couldn't believe the nerve of Sangvis to directly attack such a well-fortified base – but then again, they had somehow found a way inside. That was commendable enough – Sangvis was never especially inventive, and unlike other Griffin bases tasked with containing Sangvis Ferri, S17's mountain situation was not conducive to the typical Sangvis frontal assault.

Saiga-12 and her subordinates kept pace with Chrysanthemum easily. Their echelon – Calypso Team – was a fast strike team, shotguns, ARs, and SMGs only. _On par with Chrysanthemum in skill_, StG thought, glancing at Zas M21. The colorful doll stepped quickly with the others, likely just anxious – eager, even – for the coming fight.

They stormed down the stairwell – the elevator couldn't take them down to the next level because of damage – and burst out onto the next floor, where the weapons fire was louder. Sangvis plasma discharges mixed with nitroglycerin and brass in a cacophony of noise that echoed down the corridor, even from the faraway battle. StG turned on her sound dampening so her audio receptors wouldn't be damaged during the battle.

"Contact front, twenty meters, Jägers. Front rank, open fire!"

StG squeezed off a few shots of 7.92 Kurz as CBJ-MS and the other dolls in the front cut down the rest of the relatively frail Sangvis snipers. The Vespids in front of them suddenly turned in unison to see the Griffin dolls bearing down upon them.

"Everyone split off to the side," ordered CBJ-MS. "Scorpion, grenade!"

As the Griffin dolls hugged the walls to avoid the initial Sangvis volley, EVO 3 lobbed a grenade down the hallway, landing it perfectly amongst the Vespids' feet. The Sangvis were thrown against the walls in the resulting explosion, leaving none in Chrysanthemum and Calypso's immediate way. _So far so good,_ thought StG44.

"Where are the rest of them?" demanded Type 03.

"It was a rearguard, the Jägers haven't even fired their weapons recently. Sangvis knew we were going to send reinforcements, and now they'll know for sure that we're here." Saiga-12 kept her gun up to her shoulder, looking around warily before glancing at CBJ-MS and gesturing for the two echelons to continue on.

"So we'll finally meet this Ringleader, huh?" said K11, a smile playing at her lips. "I've been waiting, to be honest."

"Keep it quiet," Type 56-1 suggested, walking behind CBJ-MS. She glanced back, first at K11, then at StG. The two assault rifles locked eyes before Type 56-1 nodded confidently and her gaze slid off, back to her front. StG in turn looked behind her, where Z-62 was watching their rear. The submachine gun stared at StG with a tight-lipped face, but offered StG a short smile.

"Hold," said Saiga-12, and the ten dolls held. Their dummy links crowded the corridor behind them as the master unit peered down the hallway – or rather, perked up their ears. StG deactivated sound dampening to listen for what she already felt beneath her feet.

"We can _see_ the Sangvis rear line," said Zas M21. "_Why are we stopping?_"

"Quiet."

The shake grew stronger, and with it came audible footsteps – and the _wirrr-shhk _of motors rubbing metal joints together. It was a steady, inexorable, heavy cadence. Saiga-12 waved a hand.

"Back up," she hissed under her breath. "It's an Aegis."

_Aegis_. Those military dolls co-opted by Sangvis for armored advances. The Chrysanthemum and Calypso echelons were not sufficiently equipped to handle even one of the monstrous androids, though they could certainly try. They would have to if it was Sangvis, and StG knew that Griffin didn't just keep illegal military-grade android hardware around for no reason. Certainly not on this level. But there hadn't been any mention of armored units in Makarov's burst transmission from earlier… perhaps they had been very well hidden, but StG found that unlikely.

The _wirrr-shhk _grew obnoxiously loud, and StG held her breath with the others when the green-painted behemoth came around the corner. It was bigger than she remembered it from the training videos, _much _bigger, with a squat little head nestled atop an utter mountain of armor. In the two monstrous metal fists were held a metal baton and a shield, as long and tall as the Aegis itself. For a moment, StG felt as if there could be a human hidden behind the inches of servos and steel, looking out on them. The head turned to the glowing photoreceptors sunk into the faceplate could regard each of them, and for a moment the two teams were frozen with a mix of fear and indecision.

Then the android emitted a low-pitched throb of noise and began moving, bringing the shield around to block Zas M21's burst of fire. "GET AWAY!" shouted Saiga as her armor plates swiveled forward to deflect the Aegis baton in a reverberating clang. The shotgun doll began taking steps back with the others as they fled back down the hallway from the armored menace. It was impossible to get a good angle to fire on an exposed portion of the enemy in the cramped hallway – cramped for the Aegis, anyway, which was just short of touching the ceiling.

As they ran, Type 56-1 turned and fired a rifle grenade off at the unshielded side of the android. With surprisingly quick speed, the Sangvis whipped the shield back to absorb the explosion, which made StG's audio receptors ring and knocked out a few lights with shrapnel. The shield had only a large scorch mark on it, its holder none the worse for wear.

"We won't be able to get far enough around it for an uninterrupted grenade shot!" shouted K11. "It's got the whole hallway blocked!"

"Scorpion! Try throwing one!" ordered Saiga-12. The SMG pulled a grenade off her belt and pulled the pin, throwing it down towards the Aegis's feet, just as she did the Vespids. Before it even got there, however, the android stretched out with the baton and swatted the grenade into the wall. The explosion threw concrete dust into the corridor and further deafened StG, who dampened her hearing once again and looked to CBJ-MS for further orders.

"Dive off at the next intersection," said the doll, pointing to the perpendicular hallway ahead. "I've got an idea."

As soon as the two echelons reached the intersection, they threw themselves and their dummies into the adjoining hallway and out of the Aegis's line of sight. StG was with CBJ-MS, Type 03, and Z-62 on one side, the rest of them on the other. Saiga-12 crawled to the edge and held her gun ready as she looked to the other echelon leader.

"So, what's this idea of yours?"

"We can use the two directions here to our advantage. Us four will distract the Aegis–" StG saw Type 03 wince at this – "so K11 and the other grenadiers can fire at its back. Simple enough, I think."

"Don't you have armor piercing rounds?" Z-62 whispered.

"It means nothing against that sort of armor," the team leader said back. Saiga-12 nodded.

"Works for me, and we've no alternative. Right, you guys need to back up out of sight so the Aegis goes for them instead of us."

As Saiga got her team ready, CBJ-MS turned to StG44 urgently. "That thing's a beast at close range, so make sure to stay away from it. I don't want to lose anyone fighting it. Just keep away and it'll be fine, it can't touch us at range."

_Wirrr-shhk. _The Aegis was just about to come upon them. StG and the three others stood and backed up a little, all of them raising their weapons in anticipation of the android. StG had fought them before with Hunter, but then she had had NTW-20 and a 14.5mm round ready to help her out. There was no such savior this time, just K11, and the hope that the grenadier was using enough explosives. For the first time in a while, she actually felt a little nervous. It was nothing more than a gentle nagging at her digimind, but enough to set her on edge – the doll took a breath.

Just like last time, the Aegis stopped at the intersection to examine the situation. StG gripped her weapon tighter and watched as the brick-like head turned back towards her and the other three. _Come on, take the bait._ Why did Sangvis units have to be so _dumb?_ The Aegis started stepping toward the other team, and without thinking, StG fired a short burst at the android to get its attention before she started drawing back with the others. _You'd think it'd be eager for the fight._

As if to hammer the point home, the Aegis ignored StG and continued after Saiga-12. The doll's spirits fell as the beast lumbered away from her, but she steeled herself and reached for her belt, for her grenades – but found none. They must have fallen off during the mad rush away from the Aegis. StG cursed herself for not securing them better, because now there was no way to take the android down. It would corner Saiga-12 and the others, and that would be it. So much for the reinforcements Makarov needed.

_I'll do it._

StG felt herself running forward. CBJ-MS's hand snatched ineffectually at StG's arm, too late to stop the blonde doll. Her feet felt like lead as she charged at the Aegis android's exposed back.

It was now or never. She would have done it for NTW-20.

The doll's boots left the ground as she leapt at the Aegis. It was easy enough to find purchase on its backside, but as soon as she started climbing towards its head, the android determined that it had a passenger and reacted. Bucking like an animal, the Aegis did its best to dislodge StG, but the doll hung on tenaciously. With a clatter, the android dropped its shield and one massive hand reached behind to grab at StG, who swung her legs clear of the hand. _It won't be that easy._

No sooner had the thought left her mind when another hand wrapped around her arm. StG was powerless to stop it from pulling her away from the Aegis's back, and then she was suddenly held over its head, the other hand grasping her legs and pulling. An uncomfortable stress was felt throughout her body where the android was starting to break her apart, and her rifle fell from her grasp to the floor. The doll fumed in anger as she struggled against the droid's iron grip. She was yet again being broken apart by Sangvis.

"Eat this, scrapheap!"

The Aegis's head was consumed by an explosion and its hands opened, letting StG tumble to the floor. Another grenade blew against the android, and another, and with great effort, the Sangvis toppled to the floor, holes blown into its armor by the high-yield explosives. As its motors and servos whined ineffectually in a last-ditch attempt to bring it upright, K11 stepped up to its body and rested a foot on its chest, grinning triumphantly.

"Fuhahahahaha! Blow up!"

"Psycho," grumbled Saiga-12.

CBJ-MS ran to StG and knelt by the doll, offering a hand to help her up. "You doing alright, Sturmgewehr?"

StG considered her hand for a moment before she relented and grabbed on, pulling herself to her feet. "I'm fine," she said stiffly. "We should move on."

The black-haired team leader looked her in the eye curiously before she nodded in agreement. "Yes, we need to make up for lost ground. Type 56-1 – you're on point."

"No, I'll take it." Saiga-12 pushed her way to the front and they were off again. StG picked her rifle up off the ground before joining them as they jogged down the corridor, back towards the Sangvis line. The hallway passed by much quicker than it did the first time, though StG kept scanning and listening for any sign of another armored Sangvis unit. There were none, though that did nothing to help ease her paranoia.

Saiga slowed to a brisk walk as they began encountering fresher Sangvis and Griffin corpses. The dolls had even gotten into close quarters combat, going by the various blade and bludgeon marks on Sangvis and Griffin dolls alike. StG paused by a doll to push it over onto its back, and AK-47's glassy-eyed face stared up at her. The German doll blanched at the sight – AK-47 was someone she'd known from S09 back in the day.

"Weapons up – we should be coming up on the Sangvis soon." Saiga-12 pointed to some Griffin dolls sitting or crouched on the ground. "You there, where're the Sangvis?"

The beaten and battered doll flicked aside her burnt blonde hair as she looked up at Saiga-12, revealing the dirtied face of M1 Garand. The doll next to her, Galil, was sat up against the wall, motionless. "They blew right through us. Heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, didn't do a thing. Not to the Ringleader." The doll heaved a sigh, looking back down at Galil. The assault rifle was weakly applying pressure to a stab wound near her bioreactor, both of her hands soaked in her own coolant. Garand rested a hand on Galil's shoulder. "They pushed by our forces and made a beeline to the exit. Makarov's in pursuit."

"If they make it outside…"

"Then they can escape, and this will all have been in vain," CBJ-MS finished for Z-62. "We've got to go now. M1, if you'd like to come with us–"

"I'll stay," the rifle doll said firmly. Her green eyes flickered up and around to look at the others, coming to a rest on StG. _Admirable_, she thought. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Saiga-12 said brusquely. "Everyone, let's move."

The carnage of Sangvis Ferri's mad rush for the exit forced every doll to pick their feet up extra high as they ran in the wake of the Griffin pursuit. StG just hoped that it wouldn't be too late to stop Sangvis from getting away. The Ringleader could have destroyed the neural cloud databanks, even stolen information from them, and it was _imperative_ that the Ringleader be at least killed and the data recovered. And, well, even if it hadn't stolen anything, there wasn't a doll in the base that didn't want to see it dead. Many dolls had died in the initial attack, and yet more would likely perish if the battle continued.

Besides, it was StG's job as part of Hunter to take down Ringleaders. She wondered if NTW-20 and the others had been scrambled yet.

The two echelons came to a halt as soon as Saiga-12 raised a hand. She stared off into the distance, and when she cast a pointed glare at CBJ-MS, StG knew that she had received additional orders. The shotgun doll gestured for everyone to stay put as she and CBJ-MS moved ahead.

"Guess no Ringleader today," K11 said. "Shame, really. I've got plenty of explosives left."

"Do you ever run out?" EVO 3 replied, exasperated.

"There was this one time during Operation Firestorm…"

"Yeah, well, _I'm_ glad we're not fighting that thing," said Zas M21. "It'd make no sense for us to fight it, we're hardly the best equipped team. Surely Kerr and Jericho didn't expect us to actually take it on."

"If not us, then who?" Type 03 rebuked, holding her rifle with one hand while the other rested on her hip in a surprisingly relaxed stance. "We were easily the most qualified teams available then. Kerr would never throw us into the meat grinder without knowing that we could come out alive.

"Or maybe she just wanted to delay the Sangvis," Type 56-1 suggested. "That would seem her style."

"It's not proper to speak of the Commander in such a way," Z-62 quietly asserted. "She's just doing what's best for all of us. Sacrifices are needed in war."

"Oh sure, say that when Kerr carpet bombs the forest and half our dolls to kill the Ringleader," sneered Zas M21. "That's the logical choice, really. We've got the ordnance and drones to do it."

"Doesn't sound so bad to me," Type 56-1 agreed. "It worked for–"

"Everyone, follow the left hallway and come through the tunnel at the end," CBJ-MS ordered over Zener. "We're moving outside."

Here, the red emergency alert lights still washed the hallway crimson, and a few dolls stumbled over more corpses and debris before reaching the tunnel. K11 hesitated at the entrance, sniffing around before turning to face the others. "Smells kinda rank…"

StG spoke up. "I think it's one of the old Soviet tunnels that were part of the original base structure." She had read up on the S17 command base when she was transferred and knew a great deal about the layout and nature of the mountain fortress. Pushing past the others, StG stooped under the entrance and stepped into the tunnel, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness before moving forward as the rest of the dolls entered behind her.

"Oh, I remember in the early days when Kerr tried to have these all mapped out," said Type 56-1. "Type 64 nearly got crushed in one of the cave-ins."

"Skorpion actually did," said Zas M21. "We just left the body for dead and loaded her neural cloud backup, so she didn't remember the incident and still wanted to work on the exploration teams. Kerr quit ordering the expeditions shortly afterwards, though."

"Let's stay focused," said Z-62. "We're almost to the exit, I can see the light."

CBJ-MS and Saiga-12 stood by a hole blasted in the side of the tunnel. Both dolls' faces looked grim in the late afternoon sunlight, the former exchanging a glance with Z-62 before speaking.

"What's going on?" Zas M21 offered.

Wordlessly, the two echelon leaders climbed up through the hole and disappeared. Z-62 followed right after, then K11 leapt for the hole, followed by StG. The doll quickly found handholds to boost herself up over the edge.

"This'll be fun," said K11.

They were on the side of the mountain overlooking the valley. Cold winter wind ripped at StG's jacket and nearly took her hat off, and between the gusts of powdery snow thrown up by the gale she could see what was happening below. The wooded foothills were full of Sangvis and Griffin dolls fighting in intense close quarters combat. The grey-black mass of remaining Sangvis were making their way towards the denser forest while Griffin pursued doggedly, sporadic weapons fire echoing across the countryside. Just as StG caught sight of Makarov's blue figure, a transmission reached her Digimind.

"Attention all T-dolls: this is Makarov. Your orders are to continue pursuit of the Sangvis Ringleader until such a time as we are unable to or an alternative tracking method is devised. It is believed that the Ringleader has left with valuable data from the databanks, so it is imperative that data is recovered. The Ringleader cannot escape – see that it doesn't!"


	25. SuperSASS Chapter 9

The chop of the helicopter rotors nearly deafened SuperSASS as she walked into the helicopter launch bay with the rest of Grizzly Team. Not ten minutes prior they had been ordered to scramble and board a helicopter, part of the hastily assembled airborne force to track the Sangvis Ringleader. It was an urgent mission, urgent enough that the normally taciturn Type 81 was flustered as she gave them their orders.

"So we just set down here and watch for the Ringleader – for Gestalt?" Grizzly had asked. Type 81 nodded quickly.

"Yes, and send an alert as soon as you see it. This is basically a net we're casting to make sure it doesn't go untracked."

"Seems pretty juvenile," said Grizzly, crossing her arms. No one in her echelon had fond memories of the last encounter with Gestalt, and they wouldn't have K5's team to take the brunt of the attack like last time. RFB had made sure to pack AP rounds this time around, but SASS was still doubtful. The Ringleader was no joke, and facing it in the snowy wilderness was not an exciting concept.

SASS saw their two pilots climbing into the helicopter as they approached. "Great," groaned Grizzly. "Andrei and Volodymyr. Why are those two crackheads even flying such an important mission?!"

"They fly just as well as any others," M590 reasoned. She knew just as well as SASS that Grizzly was especially high-strung for this mission given its important, and this was her way of relieving some of that tension.

"Sure, yeah. They talk too much."

"Just ignore them!" M590 had to shout over the rotors as they climbed into the helicopter cabin. Ingram and RFB settled in positions as the doors slid shut and the helicopter briefly taxied back out onto the exposed landing pad and shook as it began takeoff. The one advantage of S09, SASS mused, was the Western Black Hawk helicopters, a much better ride. Griffin didn't want to buy anything it didn't need, so when S17 was started, the old Mi-8 helicopters still in the base facility were co-opted for the PMC's needs. The aged aircraft made for an uncomfortable ride, but SASS had gotten used to it.

Contrary to Grizzly's complaining, neither of the pilots said anything less than what was needed during the flight. It was a short ride, just to the other side of the mountain, and in no time at all SASS was watching the white-green of the mountain forest flashing by underneath the window.

"Look," Grizzly started. "I want this to be quick. We're not going to lose anyone here, not like Yew, and if we do see the Ringleader we phone HQ and then we boogie."

"What? I was going to fight it. Been looking for a little payback…" Ingram's hand wrapped around her knife's sheath, her other fingers tapping incessantly where they rested on her thigh.

"This isn't a _fight._ I'm not interested in sticking my neck out like this when this Ringleader as such a high kill rate. Nuh-uh, not going to get shot in the head like K5."

"Grizzly." Her eyelids flicking open, M590 looked to her team leader. "This is a little more important than self preservation. Remember how Type 81 said the Ringleader had neural cloud data?"

"_Might, _she said. _Might._" Grizzly raised a gloved finger as if she was making a great point, but seemed to realize her position and let her arm drop back into her lap. The nervous, exasperated expression left her face as she sat back in the seat, sobered up. "Might."

"Let her have the data. We'll just make new backups," RFB said. "Save the respawn point."

"Yes, but Gestalt destroyed at least some of the database. The neural clouds the Ringleader has – might have – could be the _only_ backups those dolls have left. It'd be permadeath if they die before we get the backups back," M590 explained.

"So… what if the Ringleader doesn't have the data at all? This could be for nothing," SASS pointed out. "The Commander– well, Makarov could be making the wrong call."

"We have to do it anyway. We don't risk something this important." Grizzly's tone put an end to the discussion.

The helicopter began lowering as they neared the dropoff point. SASS pulled her coat about her to ward off the blast of cold air that came in as the doors slid open, gazing out at the snowy evergreen treetops reaching up towards the helicopter.

"Let's hope she doesn't have us out here for more than a few hours," M590 shouted. "It's gonna be night soon!"

Grizzly laughed. "I'm calling the chopper back before sundown no matter what!"

Then the helicopter exploded.

In one moment, the rotor was blown off the tail of the chopper and the craft immediately began spiraling downward. SASS felt herself nearly pulled out of the seat and latched onto the edge of the chair with both hands.

"SAM got us! We're going to hit the trees!" someone – the pilot – shouted. Grizzly reached for the flare gun strapped to the wall behind the cockpit, and that was the last thing SASS saw before they crashed.

Her Digimind was a dark place. Not just conventionally dark, but oppressive in its emptiness. SASS supposed that it was something akin to human unconsciousness, and that she had been "knocked out" by the helicopter crash.

Which meant she was still alive.

With little effort SASS was able to call up a memory of Grizzly. "We have to do it anyway. We don't risk something this important," intoned the perfect replica of her team leader, standing stock-still in front of her. _We don't risk something this important._

And they had crashed. The pilot had said it was a SAM – apparently Sangvis still had some old Soviet technology and was putting more of it to use, which didn't bode well for Griffin. SASS wished away Grizzly and the handgun disappeared. In her place materialized the pink-haired visage of NTW-20, complete with the enigmatic blank expression she typically wore.

"What would you do, senpai?" SASS wondered aloud. NTW-20 was unresponsive. _Right, I don't have any memory of her that's applicable here… _The rifle doll would probably say something witty like 'kill them all', or maybe something more wise, like 'shoot whatever Sangvis look important.'

_No, that's not senpai at all._

She's coming around.

SASS, wake up.

Can I zap her?

"No!" Grizzly admonished, pulling SASS into a sitting position. The handgun doll's hair was ripped and singed, but her amethyst eyes shone just as brightly as ever, flames reflected in their irises. Flames… SASS turned her head to see the wreckage of the helicopter only a few steps away from the rock she was sitting against.

"What–"

"We crashed a little under half a klick short of the original destination," Grizzly explained. Behind her, RFB made little noises of disapproval as she looked over the helicopter carcass. "We all got out alive, though one of the pilots has a bit of shrapnel in his leg."

M590 crunched through the snow to Grizzly from where she had been conversing with the unwounded pilot. "Sundown in twenty minutes, half an hour at most. Andrei says the survival kit is intact, and there's four more flares in it for when we need them."

"That's good. How's Volodymyr?"

"Shot full of painkillers. He'll be good for the trip, as long as we don't go too far."

"Speaking of which…"

"It's ten, maybe twelve kilometers to the gatehouse. I guarantee that's going to be the best way to get back to the mountain."

Grizzly shook her head worriedly. "That's where Yew disappeared. What if–"

"Kerr's probably got the whole place locked down and full of patrollers – and besidies, the Ringleader can't possibly be lurking around anymore. That gatehouse forest is our best bet. Don't tell me you'd rather free climb the mountainside."

"...no," grumbled the team leader. "C'mon SASS, on your feet."

"What's the plan?" asked the pilot, Andrei, as he approached the three. He had lost the bulky pilot's helmet and taken on a backpack, presumably with the survival kit inside. Grizzly looked to M590.

"We'll begin moving directly towards Gatehouse Pavlov with Ingram and I leading the front. Periodic hails on the radio every half hour, I'd say, and the flare gun if we think it's necessary. I wouldn't put it past Sangvis to leave some stragglers in the forest, and with Volodymyr in the state he is I wouldn't like to get caught by SF."

"It'll be hard to navigate the woods like this," Andrei pointed out. M590 shrugged.

"It's going to be dark soon. We don't have time to walk to the edge of the forest or find footpath, but if we stumble upon either we can use it. Right now, though, we need to get back to base as soon as possible."

So they set out. M590 and Ingram took the front two spots, with RFB following them up, then Andrei supporting Volodymyr, then SASS, then Grizzly. It was slow going through the forest, but they were moving and that was all that mattered. Grizzly told SASS that they had already broadcast once with the handheld radio and fired off a flare. It was unlikely that Griffin would send out another helicopter, but perhaps a search team would be deployed to keep an eye out.

"Kerr," Grizzly said, "will know what we're up to. Welrod will, if the Commander doesn't."

"You know each other?"

"Yeah, we got assigned to leadership positions around the same time. Though she got promoted again afterwards."

"Right, she's field command. Though, isn't Kerr the Field Commander?"

"Technically, yes. Welrod is something like Lieutenant Colonel, technically speaking." Grizzly scoffed. "Kerr sure loved giving us ranks. I'm a lieutenant, did you know that? M590 is a sergeant."

"So why is Kerr Field Commander…"

"...if she never goes into the field? Humans are too weak, especially for someone her age. Though, I remember hearing about one or two hotshot Commanders who tried their luck on the field. Some survived."

SASS looked around her. It was quite dark, the only sound the crunch of snow underneath the group's feet. The doll did feel like they were being watched, but put it down to the aged evergreens and generally disconcerting nature of the forest. "I'm surprise anyone even tried."

"WWIII vets, mostly. Really hotheaded sometimes. They thought they could make a difference. Some did. Most, though…" Grizzly breathed deeply. "If they were out here today, nothing would've changed. You have to be a really good soldier or commander to really salvage a bad situation. And this was a bad situation of epic proportions. Makarov made the right call, but it didn't go so well."

Grizzly pointed to Volodymyr, whose foot was dragging in the snow. Andrei adjusted his grip to help him stand up better.

"We don't risk something this important," SASS echoed. Her team leader nodded.

"That's the cost of command. Sometimes your choices, however sound they may seem, end up in disaster."

"Wise words," Andrei said. Apparently the pilot had been listening in to their conversation. "The Colonel said that he was prepared to take the risk of launching air missions when we knew Sangvis had SAM launchers. Every choice is made with the knowledge that there may be repercussions."

"This one just happened to have a particularly big one." Grizzly shrugged. "It just happens. I wish it didn't, but… well, yeah."

"Grizzly!" M590's voice came down the line. Everyone in front of SASS came to a stop, and Grizzly, brow furrowed, hurried to the front.

SASS turned around and watched their backs as she waited for word of why they had stopped. It was always essential to have someone watching the rear, she had learned in training. "Training," as they called the brief information sessions surrounding the installation of the core. That core handled all the important stuff, really, though lots of supplementary material would have to be picked up later, like SASS was doing with NTW-20.

It was clear. The doll was mildly surprised that no one was following them, but happy nevertheless. Perhaps Grizzly was right that all the Sangvis had left the area by now, and M590 was just being paranoid.

She hoped so, anyway. SASS was not in the mood for a fight, and it was getting awfully dark.

Andrei and Volodymyr moved forward, and SASS hurried to join the group as they gathered around M590. The doll was crouched down next to a Ripper doll half-buried in the snow. SASS watched as the shotgun doll dug around in a bullet wound before pulling out a small bullet.

"Flashlight," she said, and RFB raised a flashlight. "This is 5.45x39mm. Soviet cartridge."

"Wait – none of the dolls who engaged the Sangvis were using a rifle in that caliber." Grizzly looked around as if she expected anyone else to speak. "Unless –"

M590's head snapped up, and she gave Grizzly a look of incredulity. "The FSB wouldn't send anyone near here, so don't even think about suggesting it."

Grizzly persisted. "Not the NSU, I agree that it's farfetched. But what if there _was_ another team out here? Kerr doesn't exactly tell us everything. Or maybe it's a third party, lost dolls, whatever."

"Yeah, right," M590 retorted, but her expression said otherwise. "Well, we can report it to Kerr when we get back."

"_If _we get back," RFB grumbled, putting her flashlight away.

"Go to the rear," Grizzly ordered.

"She's right," M590 said to Grizzly in a low voice once RFB was away and they had resumed walking. "I'm not feeling too good about our time. I understand Kerr's policy about not throwing away dolls to rescue us, but at the end of the day it's nighttime, we're low on ammo, and we have two humans to protect. If Sangvis or Gestalt _is _here, it's game over."

Grizzly glanced over her shoulder at SASS, who quickly turned her gaze away. "It doesn't matter. We keep going. No choice."

"I'll try the radio again." M590 held the receiver up to her mouth. "Fireteam Grizzly to Throne, do you receive, over?"

The radio crackled ineffectually. A cursed word slipped from the shotgun doll's lips, and Grizzly put a hand on hers reassuringly. "We can try the flare gun next time, if it'll make you feel any better."

Without a word, M590 shrugged Grizzly off and continued forging ahead. SASS flicked on her night vision on the scope just in case, continuing to scan on both sides for any more Sangvis. Grizzly and M590 occasionally murmured and pointed at more downed SF dolls, all of which seemed to have been taken unawares.

The sun had been fully set for a while by the time Grizzly pointed forward to a dim gray shine between the trees. "Look, there – a structure."

M590 frowned in confusion. "Funny, I figured that structures would've been torn down if they were this close to the base. Tactical hazard, or something." The heavy breathing of Andrei and Volodymyr reached the front as everyone slowed down to peer at the small building.

"We should investigate," Grizzly said quickly.

"No. We don't waste any time." M590 nudged her team leader in the arm. "Like you said, we keep going. No choice. Everyone's slowing down."

Grumbling, Grizzly picked up the pace. "Everyone, keep both eyes out! Nighttime means increased risk!" M590 she lightly punched on the shoulder. "Look, maybe an hour more and we'll be out of this. Sangvis hasn't shown so much as a pinky since we crashed – I guess Kerr scared them off."

"Do you remember _anything _from that hangar three weeks ago? Sangvis isn't stupid. Whenever that Ringleader isn't in our sight, it means SF is planning something."

Grizzly quieted up after that, and SASS wondered why M590 wasn't the team leader. Perhaps it was something like experience or accolades. After all, she'd heard that Grizzly had been a hero during some past operation, Firestorm, or maybe even prior. She and M590 had been together almost since they joined Griffin, SASS knew. She had never really had a friend like that.

As they trekked through the forest, the rifle doll started to become aware of every small action around her. Beyond the crunch of snow was the _tap_ping of RFB beating out a tune on her rifle with her fingers, Andrei muttering words of encouragement to Volodymyr, Grizzly sighing and the joints on M590's variable shields rustling ever so slightly. Tree branches thick with snow hung low to the ground, ready to break at the slightest disturbance. SASS heard herself breathing a little heavier than normal – her air-cooling system trying to keep up with the continued exertion. SASS was well capable of handling intense periods of combat that sometimes stretched hours or days, but like all Griffin dolls who were civilian unit converts, she would need fuel or a recharge after a certain point. Given their few packs of survival rations, there wasn't much of the former, and there certainly weren't any recharge stations in the middle of the forest. And since this wasn't a full combat deployment, SASS hadn't received a full recharge like she had for the convoy mission or nighttime raid.

Suffice to say that, if they got into a battle, she would be cutting it close to get back to base still conscious.

SASS's pensive moment was cut short when she nearly bumped into Grizzly, who had come to a sudden halt. The handgun doll held up a hand to signal everyone else to stop, cocking an ear in response to something. "Do you hear that?" she whispered to M590, who merely made a face of exasperation.

SASS strained her own hearing, and was rewarded with the almost imperceptible sound of snow creaking as someone shifting their weight. "I hear it too."

Wordlessly, Grizzly drew her pistol and M590 raised her shotgun, both slowly turning around to see if their unidentified follower would show themselves. Nothing happened, however, and the only thing SASS could hear was Grizzly constantly adjusting her grip on her pistol. After a while, Grizzly lowered her gun and sighed. "Well, maybe that's just–"

It was M590's turn to point, raising her flashlight simultaenously. "There, on the left!"

The two shadowy figures exposed by the light were certainly not Sangvis. The first one grasped an AK-12 in both hands while the second had a Mosin-Nagant held under her shoulder with one arm. Both looked battered and beaten, wearing Soviet fatigues and streaked with dirt and snow.

Grizzly whipped her pistol up to point at the newcomers. "Identify yourselves!"

The one with the Mosin-Nagant glanced at the other, who shook her head, silver hair jumping around slightly. "You don't need to know."

"Yeah, right," replied the handgun doll. "Tell me or I'll shoot both of you where you stand."

Before SASS could blink, both of their confronters had pointed their weapons at Grizzly, quite unwavering with their grip. "We're not looking for a fight," the one continued. "You're not Sangvis – but they're around here."

"Jericho said this area was cleared just yesterday. They couldn't possibly have returned so quickly," Grizzly muttered to M590.

"If we don't get going soon, they'll catch up to us." Setting a hand on her compatriot's AK-12, the second figure spoke up a little to keep Grizzly's attention. "We ought to move now. We can show you a safer route."

"We can't even trust you!" Grizzly spat, utterly baffled. She cast a glance to M590, who wore a look of trepidation. "Oh, don't tell me–"

"Maybe if we were on our own," M590 said, gesturing to the two pilots. "I'll trust them on this. Though – I think I already know who we're dealing with here."

The one with an AK-12 huffed and turned away to head into the forest, apparently done with the conversation. Grizzly turned to M590, eyes narrowed, but followed after a moment. SASS went behind the shotgun, and soon they were all back on the move.

"You know these woods?" M590 asked the one with the Mosin-Nagant, her blonde hair pulled back into ponytail.

"Fairly well."

"...I guess that means you've gotten a bit of experience, then."

"You could say so."

She obviously didn't want to disclose much at all. SASS caught M590's eyes and the doll gave her a look of resignment – after all, they were getting a better way through the forest, and in the end it was worth the weird guides. _We'll be interrogated about it endlessly,_ SASS thought. S17 was, after all, quite the large sector, and any number of people could be residing in the woods and abandoned Soviet bases, though how they escaped detection by both Sangvis and Griffin was something else entirely. SASS felt as if she was better off not knowing the details of these two.

Behind her, Andrei huffed and puffed as he helped Volodymyr navigate the forest undergrowth. The pilot was doing quite admirably for a human, she believed, though SASS was acutely aware how little she really knew about humans beyond basic physiology and training. "Would you like any help?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

"No, but thank you." Andrei smiled at her and looked to his copilot. "Volodymyr's doing most of the heavy lifting anyway."

"Piss off," the other pilot mumbled, standing a little straighter.

"You owe me a bottle when we get back. I know you've got a stash…"

"I don't have anything since the bastard Grigori lifted half of it off me in that last poker game. You can ask him for some on my behalf."

_They sound just like M590 and Grizzly._ Or maybe M590 and Grizzly sounded like them – that would be the right order of things. The two pilots were probably ten times as old as the two T-dolls, but you wouldn't know unless you thought about it.

SASS kept her rifle up, peering down the scope from time to time so she could get a green-washed view of the frozen forest, as everyone had turned their flashlights off to avoid detection. The two unnamed girls stalked at the front of the line, carefully leading Grizzly and M590 between the trees while SASS and the others followed behind. Occasional messages zipped from Grizzly to the dolls at the back of the line to keep them apprised of the situation, so when the blonde girl gave Grizzly a muttered command to halt, everyone stopped moving in near unison – save the humans.

"Why are we stopping," Grizzly asked through closed teeth. The blonde girl put a finger to her lips and looked to the other, who had gone stock still and appeared to have her eyes closed. "What the hell's going on here…"

"Quiet!"

"Look, if you don't tell me–"

The blonde girl turned around and pushed her finger against Grizzly's chest. "You need to be quiet," she said, her tone instantly turning from patient to authoritative.

Before Grizzly could get out another retort, the other girl opened her eyes and turned to the blonde, pulling her around and launching into a brief series of hand gestures. Her eyes flickered to SASS for a brief second before making more signs.

"No, that can't be right–" the blonde one began.

More signs.

"Oh." She turned toward the others, a queer look on her face. "Well – it's here."

Grizzly snorted. "You can't possibly mean–"

"Yes. Whatever you're calling it."

"Ges-"

The girl put a hand up. "I don't want to hear it. She says it's not in our vicinity, but definitely near the mountainside. Close enough to nab us if it wants."

"Well, we have to move. Now."

The silver-haired girl signed aggressively.

"It's not that easy," translated the blonde. "It's… well, it's a wonder we haven't been found yet, really. This Sangvis is quite good at getting close."

"Yeah, we know," Grizzly said curtly. "How do _you_ know where it is?" Her draw hand seemed to waver, and SASS hoped she wouldn't pull a gun again. Everyone was tense.

"Trade secret," the blond replied without even looking at her partner signing. "We'll have to be extra careful with how we move. Stop when I tell you, don't speak unless spoken to."

"Zener?"

"Nope. Hand signals, if you can."

They set out again – but this time taking careful steps through the snow, every move deliberate. Ever so often, their two guides would pause to see if Gestalt was near, the silver-haired one with her eyes shut tight in concentration. SASS wondered what she was doing to be able to sense the Sangvis presence. Maybe it was some sort of sensory enhancement augmentation like she'd read about on the net being used to detect something hundreds of meters away, or something else. Not for the first time, the thought crossed SASS's mind that the two might not be girls, but dolls. And if so, there was really only one explanation for why two non-Sangvis dolls would be wandering the sector but outside of Griffin's jurisdiction: Parapluie.

The virus that every doll from P7 to NTW-20 herself was scared of. SASS didn't need to ask NTW-20 or P7 about it to know their feelings – Parapluie was more than just a bullet in the Digimind. For some, it meant a fate worse than death – for others, a horrific ending of pain and insanity. SASS had heard rumors of dolls who had received the virus and lived to tell the tale, but they were outliers, experimental units better equipped to handle such an electronic attack. For any _normal_ doll, it was the end. Be it SASS or NTW-20, getting Parapluie meant the same thing.

It was rather humbling, all things considered.

Something caught SASS's eye and dragged her back to reality. The silver-haired doll was signing again, her hands moving in a blur as she hammered out a frantic series of gestures to the blonde, who signalled to Grizzly, who told everyone to take cover behind the nearest object. SASS made for a bush and sank down into the snow, ignoring the damp cold seeping into her clothes – the silver guide had been more than just urgent in her signing. It carried the unmistakable nature of someone scared for their life, and SASS felt a sense of foreboding creep into her thought processes. A simulated feeling, but too real all the same.

One thing could have made the guide act as she did. SASS slowly wrapped her hand around the grip of her gun and placed her finger near the trigger, hoping she would never have to fire. If it _was_ the Ringleader, _was_ Gestalt – she could call to mind perfectly the memory of their last encounter, Ingram being impaled, K5 and T-5000 dead on the floor – she could call to mind the informational bulletin Kerr had released two weeks ago, warning dolls to always work in teams when outside the base and _never_ to leave unless authorized – she could call to mind the reports the Gestalt was _there_, in the base during that attack, had killed Type 92 and who knows how many more, injured an elite doll and bulldozed its way through two echelons worth of rag-tag defenders in Doll Services commanded by Makarov, one of the dolls on the actual command staff – what chance did SASS and Grizzly Team stand against a Ringleader, when they'd already lost once with half again their number? Surely the guides weren't that good, and they had ordered the Griffin dolls into hiding anyway. Could they even hide from Gestalt in the first place?

It was quiet for a moment. Then there was a whisper as a pair of well-oiled joints approached, punctuated by the crisp crunch of broken snow. The steps paused regularly, as if scanning for something, and then continued, growing closer.

Gestalt was here.

_Gestalt_ ran through SASS's mind a dozen times before she could think of anything else. Gestalt, which made an echelon disappear and then impersonated them. Gestalt, which assumed the form of a female but didn't even try to pass as one, its shadowed appearance that of a woman dipped in crude oil. Gestalt, which had no problems breaking into one of the most secure Griffin facilities in Eastern Europe.

Gestalt was here.

Here, now, stalking the dolls that had crashed. Doubtless it had noticed the crash and was investigating – SASS wished it hadn't. She almost felt ready to cry from the stress, but held it down. Gestalt had stolen neural cloud backup data. What if SASS's own backup was part of that? If she died here, she died for good. _Senpai…_ NTW-20 would know what to do, surely.

Surely.

But NTW-20 had never faced such an enemy before, she knew.

Gestalt drew closer.

The guide had said not to use Zener. Did that mean Gestalt could read Zener? Intercept it? Impersonate it? Electronic warfare was a scary thing. She couldn't speak or send a message to anyone. That kind of true isolation – isolation when she already felt scared and alone – was the worst. It made SASS feel claustrophobic and spooked and flighty and frozen all at once, a terrifying mixture of fear and indecision.

Gestalt drew closer. Its quiet steps sounded almost normal when there wasn't an emotionless black mask to put to the sound. It was almost human in its pauses, but just regular enough to remind SASS that it was an enemy. _Why won't it just leave?_

The steps stopped.

SASS started straight into the murky darkness, too scared to so much as twitch her eyes to get a look at where she last heard the steps. They had been frighteningly close, maybe two meters, certainly near enough that any movement SASS made would be heard. She was frigid in her position sunk into the snow, but didn't dare show discomfort. Gestalt hadn't made a move, and neither would she.

In fact, it became so quiet that SASS was almost convinced that the Ringleader was actually gone, and that she was just too scared to admit it. Anytime now, Grizzly would appear around the edge of the bush and grin at SASS for being too serious, then help her up and they'd be on their way.

Anytime now.

Something whirred, but no footsteps came.

_don't move don't move don't move don't move don't move don't move _

Gestalt started moving again. Like a storm passing over, its dark presence seemed to move on, perhaps satisfied that nothing was present. SASS was amazed that it had not suddenly seized a doll and dragged her away – or dragged them all away, for that matter. Still, she waited several minutes after the whirring and crunching had faded away before slowly sitting up.

The dim shapes of Grizzly and the others were stirring, looking in the same direction SASS was: the way Gestalt had been traveling. Everything seemed clear – no black-armored doll slinking around the trees. _Not that it would let us see it,_ SASS realized. The blonde girl was standing next to her partner, who was once again deep in concentration. SASS got to her feet and watched as everyone else did the same, still looking around in case Gestalt was closer than they thought.

"We're clear. It's a ways away." The silver-haired girl signed furiously at the blonde, whose brow raised in mild shock. "Hey, you gotta slow down…"

"Why's your friend sign like that?" M590 peered at the two somewhat suspiciously. "She hasn't said a word."

"She can't," replied the blonde, and she said no more. SASS couldn't see Grizzly's face all that well with the flashlights off, but imagined that she was rolling her eyes.

"How much longer until we reach the base?"

"Griffin's perimeter is just a couple kilometers away at most." The blonde looked at the two human pilots, coming out of cover from behind a fallen tree a bit farther way. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you managed to stay undetected with that injury."

"You'd be surprised," Volodymyr grunted, clearly not too pleased with their guide's tone. "Dolls haven't bested us in everything." In the dim light moonlight filtered through the forest and reflected off the snow, SASS could see the blonde girl's anodyne expression briefly break to reveal a flicker of surprise and enmity. Volodymyr chuckled to break the tension. "Well, I can brag all I want, but my leg still hurts. We'd best be going before that Sangvis gets back."

Though they were just as silent as before when they moved out, something was different this time. A sober aura had spread through the line, brought upon them by Gestalt. It spooked SASS to think that they would all be cowed by a Ringleader. After all, they weren't dolls like MP5 or FN49, easily intimidated individuals. Grizzly and M590 were veterans, Ingram battle-hungry, RFB always eager for a challenge. _Maybe Ingram still wants to fight it_, SASS thought. Ingram never seemed to have reservations about those things.

SASS reckoned that half an hour of start-stop navigation had passed by the time they reached the edge of the forest. A snow-covered gap of about two hundred meters lay between them and the foot of the mountain, where Gatehouse Pavlov shone like a welcoming campfire between the trees clinging to the mountain. Kerr had partially deforested the immediately area after the incident with Yew Team, and through her scope SASS could even see the dolls patrolling the area.

"This is where we'll part ways," said the blonde girl. "My friend and I can go no farther here."

"I'm obligated to take you in for questioning." Grizzly stared straight past the blonde, locking eyes with the silver-haired one. "I don't have a choice here."

"You're right." SASS saw the second girl place a hand on the handle of the AK-12. "You don't have a choice. You'll return without us. It'd be just as well you report that you made it back alone."

"I don't even know who you are."

The silver-haired girl signed some, and the blonde translated. "You can afford us anonymity after what we've done for you tonight. Besides, I'm sure the Commander has more important matters on the mind," she added.

"You speak as if you know her."

"I know what's going on in the sector. No one in a command position will pay attention to a report about us when there's a Ringleader like that running about."

Grizzly was silent for a moment. "Fine. But if I so much as hear about you, I'm going straight to Ke–"

"Thanks!" the blonde interrupted, smiling slightly. "That's all I needed. We'll be going now, then…"

"Safe travels," M590 offered. Then the two guides were away, moving through the forest much faster when they didn't have extra bodies to guide.

"Weirdos," RFB said finally.

"You should be more considerate," M590 chastised. "Gestalt could've killed all of us if they weren't there to help."

"Can we just go now?"

Grizzly nodded, standing up and stepping past the trees. "Yes. Andrei, how's Volodymyr?"

"Healthy as ever."

"Great. Let's move."

SASS felt terribly exposed moving across the plain of snow, but if Sangvis thought they could make a move, they didn't. Soon they reached the Griffin control forest and Grizzly began transmitting her IFF tag on Zener again.

"Look, there's a patrol," RFB pointed. The Griffin dolls had noticed the signal and were walking toward them. SASS recognized the one at the front as CZ75

"Well well well, what's all this then?" The red-haired doll put her hands on her hips as she looked up at Grizzly expectantly. "You're back a little late."

"Got held up in traffic."

"I see you made it out fine. Shame the dummies got lost, though."

Grizzly shrugged. "It's worth my life. How'd it go while we were crashed."

For a moment, CZ75 teetered on her heels, clearly hesitant to speak. "Well – let's just say you'll be debriefed as soon as you get through the door."


	26. Makarov Chapter 3

The holotable hummed to life as MP40 started it up, its projection casting a cyan glow on the faces of everyone in the room. Hovering above the table was the image of Helian, who crossed her arms and cast her gaze downwards – it occurred to Makarov that Helian probably had a lot of experience talking down to Griffin commanders. Kerr certainly didn't seem intimidated.

"Vice-Director," she said calmly.

"Commander Kerr. Report."

To her credit, Kerr didn't show any sign of annoyance at Helian's brusque tone. "The Sangvis raid has been repelled. Our efforts to prevent the Ringleader from escaping detection, however, were stymied when it shot down one of our helicopters with a SAM. The launcher has since been captured, but we are still unsure of where Gestalt may be hiding. Our intelligence teams are still on the case."

Helian's hands went to her belt. "So you have had no progress."

"I wouldn't quite put it that way, marm."

"Well – your sector has been afforded a considerable amount of resources. Results are expected."

"This isn't a Ringleader we know much about, and even if it were, it certainly doesn't fight in any way we are trained or prepared to deal with. Dr. Schuhart is working day and night to understand Gestalt and what it does, but it is not that easy. This isn't an item from the Sangvis product catalogue."

"I see. I take it you are taking measures to counter further raids and solve this problem?"

Makarov raised an eyebrow. They had nearly lost an echelon of dolls and two human pilots in the helicopter crash, and had actually lost a portion of the neural cloud backups in the raid, not to mention all the material damage and the morale issue after the attack. Didn't Helian understand that Kerr – the whole command team, actually – were working with one hand behind their back? She almost made it sound like the solution would be intuitive – that's preposterous, Makarov thought.

"Of course, marm." It was not lost to Makarov that Kerr had at least twenty years on the other woman and just as much extra experience in command. The Commander held her hands behind her back in a relaxed, but attentive stance. "I've already begun increasing the dolls assigned to search and destroy duty, and there's a unit formulating a plan to neutralize the Ringleader as we speak."

Helian made no reaction. "I trust that it will be a good plan."

"The unit is one of my best. You have my word."

"Very well. What of the neural cloud backups? You mentioned in the last report that they may have been compromised."

"It is confirmed that the Ringleader made off with a great deal of backups," Kerr said, a brief expression of displeasure contorting her face. "Damage to the databanks was major, and though they can be repaired or replaced, it will take time. At least several dozen dolls are without a neural cloud backup and face permanent death if their mainframe is destroyed.

"You have a plan for this, too?"

"I am working with my command staff to determine a way to keep these dolls safe while also recovering the stolen backups at some point, if Sangvis still kept them intact and uncorrupted. If worst comes to worst – we could lose many seasoned dolls permanently."

Helian's mouth tightened, but she made no other indication of her feelings on the matter. "Is there anything else you would like to report?"

"No, marm. I'll certainly contact you if I have anything important enough to relay."

"See that you do."

Helian disappeared in a buzz of holographic particles. Immediately after, the command room dissolved into a crowd of low, conspiratorial muttering as the mixed human-doll command staff talked amongst each other about Helian's call. Makarov had her own thoughts on the matter, but neglected to share them with anyone.

"How can Helian expect us to just win?" Contender said to MP-448.

"Well, I for one agree with the Vice-Director. Even if she doesn't understand the scope of our problems exactly, she's not wrong." The other doll sniffed and crossed her arms. "And she knows that we'll figure it out. That's why she's so expectant."

"Well then, I can't wait to hear your brilliant solution," Contender scoffed.

"Attention, please." As the Commander began speaking, Makarov finally stepped forward from where she was standing in the back and took position with the rest of the senior dolls around the holotable. Kerr waited until everyone had quieted and she had their attention before she continued. "MP-448, report on your investigation."

"Ma'am. My team has located the entry point for the Sangvis raid: a tunnel dug one point three kilometers to the southwest of the mountain, in the foothills. It appears that the old Soviet tunnels extended farther than we originally thought, since the Sangvis tunnel only needed to go two hundred and seventy meters before reaching the existing system. After that, it appears they worked their way up to the Doll Services level and busted into the base proper through there."

"I said we ought to have mapped those tunnels all the way," Jericho said, the righteous tone in her voice matching her told-you-so expression. "This wouldn't have happened if we did."

"Oh yes it would've," Python rebuked irritably. "Don't be such a–"

"Regardless of the what-ifs," Kerr broke in, "it will need to be corrected. MP-448, draft a plan to pick up where we left off on the tunnel exploration and find some volunteers to do it. Makarov, what's your after-action report on the raid?"

Everyone looked at her expectantly. The helicopter crash had been quite the fiasco and lost Makarov a lot of confidence amongst the rest of the command staff, but the doll was assured in her reasoning and quickly put aside her worries about the other dolls.

"Debris analysis confirms that it was a Волга, or Guideline launcher that took down the helicopter. As we already know, the launcher has been captured and its missiles added to storage. Lieutenant Salmela, we will soon need additional permanent space for these weapons, since the munitions storage room is already full and the helicopter hangar is only a temporary storage space."

Evert Salmela, the logistics officer, nodded silently at her words. He was a capable logistician, and Makarov knew that she could trust him to finish the job.

"As for Grizzly's report of the encounter with Gestalt, we can only attribute it to the Ringleader deciding to remain in the area because of the helicopter crash. We now know that it is elsewhere, so perhaps it was just looking to take down another echelon."

"How encouraging," K5 said. She had been one of the dolls killed in an earlier encounter, and Makarov knew she had a powerful aversion to Gestalt. "It was operating alone, wasn't it?"

"...to the best of our knowledge, yes."

"Okay, I can buy that, but I don't get how Grizzly's entire echelon and two humans managed to escape Gestalt without even being noticed. Isn't that a bit suspicious?" Python put both hands on her hips. "I mean, this Ringleader can't be that dumb."

"You never know with Sangvis," Jericho grumbled.

"They don't have Parapluie," MP-448 said. "They were checked."

"Yes, well, maybe there was something else," Jericho suggested.

Python narrowed her eyes. "You don't mean…"

"Yes, those two dolls. If they helped Grizzly's team, it could mean they're doing something else out there."

Jericho was speaking of OTs-12 and SV-98. They had all but disappeared after their one message had come to the command team, and after that MP40 had been hard pressed to find any sign of their presence. But with Threat Level Schuka the normality nowadays, no Griffin doll could be outside of the base without permission– so the only individuals who could have helped Grizzly's echelon were OTs-12 and SV-98.

"They should be brought in," Jericho was saying. MP-448 shook her head.

"That's a bad idea. What if they were carrying a dormant form of Parapluie?"

"If so, why did Grizzly and the others make it back just fine? Or maybe they didn't."

"Don't suggest that!"

"OTs-12 and SV-98," Kerr began, speaking loudly to bring everyone's attention back to her, "will be left alone for the time being. If necessary, an attempt will be made to find them and bring them back into the fold, but it's not our priority at the moment. Searching for two functionally MIA dolls is something that can be done later. Now, let's move on to our plan to deal with Gestalt."

"Oh, is this going to be good enough for Helian?" K5 sneered. Kerr ignored the doll.

"I know some may not like it, but the Vice-Director does have a point. To prevent any more surprise attacks, we will have to take a more aggressive approach in dealing with Sangvis. This will likely mean putting more echelons in the field at one point or another. Makarov has succeeded in capturing or disabling nearly all known SAM launchers in the sector, but Sangvis could still pose a threat to our air units."

"All the more reason to not pursue," Jericho said. "Commander, I know I advocated for an aggressive approach before, but with a large part of our force compromised, I'm not so sure about going against an enemy that is so… unknown."

In the blue light of the holotable, Kerr's normally statue-like face took on an eerie look of tiredness and finality. Makarov couldn't help but feel sorry for the human – as sorry as an android could.

"We don't have a choice," she said, straightening up and studying the map of S17 now on the table.

"We always have a choice." Jericho reared up in a similar stance as if trying to assert her own authority as executive officer. "We can chose to take a defensive stance."

At this, Welrod Mk II leaned in, not a little angry. "Take a defensive stance?! I don't know about you, but I'm not so ready to let this Sangvis… thing, pick us off one by one. I say we fight. We can do it, the dolls will want to, so why not?"

"You'll just get us killed," said K5 from her spot behind the senior staff. "Don't think that just because you're too damn hotheaded to be reasonable means that everyone else is the same. I'm not so ready to die in a pointless battle!"

"I'll side with that," Contender added. "Who wants to throw their life away for a lost cause? I'm making my choice!"

"Enough."

Everyone quit speaking when Kerr opened her mouth. Makarov snuck a glance at the other dolls – most of them had stopped mid-sentence, their eyes turning towards the Commander. Kerr could give them rank, give them positions, give them power – but she was still the one in charge, no matter what. They all had to listen.

"We don't have a choice. Now – I know that a defensive posture is theoretically better, but in our current situation we can't afford to wait for Sangvis to come to us. We're not going to win by weathering continued assault. Gestalt is the root of it all: find it, kill it, and we're done. A decapitation strike. To some of you this will seem rash or illogical – well, it's the way it's going to be done, no argument."

Makarov recognized the principle from her own study of tactics. Decapitation strikes were meant to remove a country or military's leadership, often both, and given how Sangvis relied on the OGAS protocol, it was particularly effective against SF. Kerr seemed to be confident enough to pull rank so it was done, but Makarov had her reservations about actually being able to track down and kill Gestalt. It was a ghost, and she knew – firsthand, now – that it would take more to kill than just a few well-placed shots.

"Commander," she began. "I see the merits of the idea, but I'm sure I speak for the others when I say that our ability to actually deal with Gestalt itself is dubious at best."

"I've got a plan for that," said NTW-20. Makarov turned her head to the left just as the pink-haired sniper worked her way in between Kerr and Makarov, dwarfing the Russian doll with her immense height. The Hunter. The Commander had told the command staff at their last meeting that she had tasked NTW-20 to form a plan of attack for Gestalt, and it seemed that the doll finally had something to show.

"NTW-20 has devised a method through which Gestalt may be contained and eliminated," Kerr explained. "Please give her your full attention."

Makarov studied the doll's face as she spoke. It was blank, not a hint of any emotion shown from under a mask of discipline. NTW-20 spoke in the clipped tone of a professional. "We know that Gestalt is residing somewhere within this circle–" here she used the interface to overlay a red circle on the map "–according to our last intelligence report. Our top priority is keeping Gestalt contained, so if we deploy echelons along these two phase lines, using the mountainside as a natural barrier, we can stop it from slipping away while my team goes in for the kill."

Obviously, some were not pleased. Jericho, ever the skeptic, crossed her arms judgmentally. "And how will echelons spread that thin keep Gestalt contained?"

"They won't, not on their own. But if we keep a few echelons on standby with HOCs ready to provide fire support, we can support any section of the line Gestalt pushes."

"And your team can handle it?" Contender asked.

"We've handled every Ringleader so far," NTW-20 replied, exuding that natural confidence so many elite dolls tended to do. "This one will be no different."

"I doubt that," Makarov replied automatically.

"We don't have a choice," Kerr reiterated, "unless we carpet bomb half the sector."

"Once we pinpoint the Ringleader's location, several teams can clear local Sangvis forces while Hunter remains on standby. Once it's clear, we head in, clean house, and then it's up to the general combat echelons to see to it that the remainder of the Sangvis forces are taken care of." NTW-20 straightened up as she finished, assured that her plan would work

If Makarov didn't know better, it almost sounded easy.

"I won't pretend that this is a foolproof plan, but I'm not going to wait for Sangvis to come to us, nor mount a massive offensive. I want everyone on the senior staff to analyze the plan and determine any shortcomings or potential gaps, and we'll discuss it at the next meeting."

Nobody looked pleased, but nobody raised any objections either. Like Makarov, they had mulled it over in their Digimind and come to the same conclusion.

"Dismissed. Makarov, in my office."

Makarov caught a glance from Jericho as the other doll stepped away from the command table. Most of the command staff had been giving her looks of anger or distaste after the Sangvis raid. She knew why: nobody liked her command decisions. They thought the chase after Gestalt was folly, and now that they knew the Ringleader had stolen data they were infuriated that Makarov had made the right call after all. It had even been approved by Kerr beforehand.

Even though Kerr hadn't so much as pointed towards her adjutant, Type 81 was already in the Commander's office by the time Makarov entered after Kerr. She looked around the room reverentially as she came to a halt in front of the Commander's desk, gazing around at the decorations. The office was ridiculously well put together, even by the Russian's dolls standards, from the shelves of obscure reading material to the big G&K emblem on the back wall, flanked by Kerr's many decorations. Dimly, Makarov recalled that it wasn't really modest to display one's commendations in such a way, but she did acknowledge the effect it had on morale and on how the Griffin troopers, both human and doll, perceived Kerr.

The Commander had gone to one of the shelves and was busy inspecting one of the titles on it. Makarov couldn't get a look at the lettering from her distance and in the dim light from the floor and table lamps Kerr had turned on, but she continued observing the Commander to see if she could get any hint of what the woman was doing. Androids were easy to read, humans less so, but Kerr was quite enigmatic, rarely showing any emotion besides mild approval or displeasure.

NTW-20 seemed much the same. Makarov had known the elite hunter since her arrival in S17 – she had even been there when the rest of that squadron showed up in the hangar – but there was still so little she knew about the tall sniper. The rumors, however, were well-known: that NTW-20 had been leading the squadron when a rockfall in S16 killed a company of dolls, that Hunter Squadron's members were all failed applicants to some elite doll unit, that Type79's metal arm was Sangvis tech. Those could be lies, but it was certain that StG44 had beat up a few Griffin dolls in the hallway over a month ago. Makarov had even seen her walking to Kerr's office alongside NTW-20 a while after and remembered how angry she felt. Who feels the need to beat up other dolls? she wondered. Commanding was her area of expertise, violence was something else entirely. A programmed instinct.

Kerr suddenly turned around and stood behind her desk, crossing her arms across her chest. "At ease," she said, and Makarov stood at rest. The Commander stood still for a few long moments more before finally speaking again, taking small paces back and forth. "This reminds me very much of a situation I was in during the war. Not the tactics, of course, but the arguing. Dolls are more courteous than humans, at least, but that isn't saying much. The unit I was attached to was debating a plan of action, and it was only when the commanding officer made an executive decision that something got done. Discussion is good, but choice is essential."

"Komandir?"

"A decision needed to be made."

The Commander's eyes were focused entirely on Makarov as she spoke, as if trying to impart something more important to the doll.

"They don't have to like it. They don't have to agree with it. They have to understand it. All that matters for now is that orders are followed. And I think the troops will agree."

The troops. Kerr had always referred to the dolls in the base as troops. Callous and shrewd and distant and authoritarian she may sometimes seem, but she always treated the android soldiers like people, for better or for worse. Makarov liked that.

"What do you think?"

Makarov was surprised at the question. "Well, er, I concur. Nobody is content to sit idle, and I believe that the dolls are… motivated, shall we say."

"Good." Kerr looked back to the shelves. "Unwilling fighters never do as well."

There were morale issues inherent in androids with such a high level of intelligence as T-dolls, Makarov acknowledged. Dolls that didn't want to fight did perform worse than their compatriots, and while they couldn't disobey orders, they certainly made it difficult to give them. Unwilling dolls sent a negative feedback through the command net that interfered with Makarov's commands just enough to be noticeable. A motivated unit, on the other hand, was generally more efficient and capable.

"I'd like you to take command of the escort force going in with Hunter."

Makarov stood very still at those words. "I beg your pardon, ma'am."

"You and Welrod, I think. Pick four – no, three echelons to participate in the escort. I'll ensure that at least one HOC unit is attached to your force. Welrod will be in the field to oversee it, but you'll be in the command center. Now–" Kerr held up a hand. "I know you may feel inadequate for the position, but you handled yourself well during the raid and have demonstrated quite the ability in the past. I'll be right in the command center with you."

"I still feel obligated to decline–"

"You can't decline an order." Kerr smiled just a tad. "Determine your echelons and a battle plan and report to me tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now return to your duties. There's a lot left to be done, as I understand it. Dismissed."


	27. StG44 Chapter 8

"Stay still, please."

StG44 obliged the technician's orders, holding her arm still as the machine went to work. "Aren't I supposed to be asleep for this?"

"If you want to be," the woman shrugged. She was the same one who had been with Schuhart during the incident with RPD. The doctor had called her Sasha, StG remembered, but the tech introduced herself as Technician Macek. "It cuts down on spent time by a few minutes if we skip shutdown and bootup protocols. Not usually important, but with so many damage repair orders waiting…"

The repair machine was busy cutting up StG's arm, where a Sangvis plasma round had seared the synthetic skin there and nicked the endoskeleton. It was the only damage StG had sustained in the short battle with Sangvis on the mountainside, and when she returned she was automatically put on the repair list by Kerr's general order. It had taken her over a day to actually enter the repair bay, however, since it had been, and still was full of much more heavily damaged dolls. StG looked to the repair station next to her, where KS-23 laid surrounded by an array of automated repair tools.

"That one's going to take a while," Macek commented. "Can't do any repairs until the armor plating's been removed, and that takes a few hours at least."

"I see."

"Time flies when you're having fun, though…"

StG did not miss Macek's air of resignation. She had become rather skilled at interpreting tones of voice during her time with Chrysanthemum – mostly during their times out at the café, or whenever they had run a joint mission with a different unit (Support Squad Pavel's harried leader was especially derisive, she had noticed), or even when she was just talking to Type 56-1 and K11. Z-62 and CBJ-MS were always more aloof, but joined in conversations every once in a while.

The repair bay was a long line of ten high-tech doll maintenance stations arrayed along one wall, a wide pathway separating it from the other side, where computers and workstations were available for use by the technicians on duty. Normally only a couple techs were ever on at one time, but it seemed like Kerr had put at least five on duty to handle the large number of dolls who needed repairs, with Macek as the senior technician present.

It was lucky that the bay was part of the IOP wing of the base rather than the Doll Services levels, since that section had been absolutely devastated during the Sangvis raid and was undergoing heavy repairs. It was mostly quiet in the repair bay except for technicians muttering between themselves and the low _whirr_ of repair machines going about their business.

Macek suddenly looked up from the terminal she'd been inspecting as the door to the repair bay opened and a doll entered, adjusting the dark blue kepi atop her blonde head as she approached. It was MP-448 in all her officious glory, dressed in the same faux-military style of uniform that StG herself wore.

"Hey there, Skyph," the technician waved. If MP-448 was peeved by Macek using her nickname, she betrayed no hint of such annoyance in her reply.

"Technician Macek. How go the repairs?"

"Oh, fine." Macek swiveled around on her stool to fully face the doll. "The last of the heavily damaged dolls are being worked on right now, so I'm starting to take in the minor cases." StG turned to watch the machine peeling away the seared synthetic flesh, setting it aside and starting to go to work on the endoskeleton.

MP-448 crossed her arms underneath the jacket she had over her shoulders. "That's good. What about the quarantined dolls?"

Several dolls had been quarantined after the raid – ones who had been in direct contact with Gestalt and were still alive, like M99. StG had heard that the dolls Gestalt had outright killed Kerr had ordered incinerated. Macek shrugged. "No signs of abnormality. Schuhart's overseeing the tests personally, I expect the first batch'll be cleared by noon."

"I'll speak to him about it, then."

"He is the expert, yes." Macek scratched at a spot on her face aimlessly. "Need anything?"

"A recharge." MP-448's face broke in a thin smile. "Kerr's got us working near constantly this next week."

"Well, take a few of these MRE packs," Macek replied, already reaching for a drawer on the supply cabinet that was part of StG44's repair station. MP-448 held up a hand.

"No, thank you. I'm stopping by the mess hall later, I can pick something up then. Let me know about anything important here."

"Sure thing." Macek turned back to her terminal as soon as MP-448 started for the door. StG sensed that her endoskeleton had been repaired and looked to confirm the feeling. Every doll could just _feel_ things about their body, even when the actual sensory devices embedded in their skin and skeleton were switched off, as they were now. StG supposed that humans might call it uncanny, but it was second nature to her. Helpful in combat, too.

There was a commotion at the door, and StG quickly turned her head to see MP-448 struggling to squeeze by K11 and Type 56-1 as the two assault rifle dolls pushed through the entrance in tandem. At a muffled word, K11 stepped back, and MP-448 hurried off down the hallway.

"It's her fault she tried to get by," the blue-haired doll was saying to CBJ-MS as they walked towards StG. The team leader rolled her eyes.

"Sure, I'll take your word for it. Hej, Sturmgewehr.."

"Hello," StG replied, looking on in wonder as the other four dolls of Chrysanthemum stopped in front of her repair station. Type 56-1 grinned as wide as K11, and even Z-62 managed to show her teeth. "I didn't expect to see you all here."

"Well, we've got a lunch break and I figured it'd be worth the time to see you," CBJ-MS replied.

"And let you know what you're missing out on," Type 56-1 bemoaned. "Kerr has all the available dolls helping to clean up debris and corpses after the raid, but since most of the work there is with power loaders and exoskeletons, the rest of us are stuck helping with the perimeter patrols. And _CZ-75 _is running them. That girl makes me so uncomfortable…"

"Yeah yeah, deal with it. You want another raid?" K11 elbowed Type 56-1.

"You two, quit it," CBJ-MS ordered. "Miss Macek, good to see you again."

"The same to you," the technician replied. "It's good to see that you didn't take any damage."

"Hm, well, there's a reason I'm this highly rated, I suppose."

"Not that IOP's ratings mean much." Macek stared pointedly at K11, who caught the glare and put her hands on her hips defensively.

"My self-modifications work just fine," the doll replied petulantly. "I don't need you judging me."

"Right…"

"_Anyway…_" CBJ-MS reached for her bag and unzippered it, prizing a flat, wrapped object from it and holding it out to StG. "Here you are."

_Marabou. _StG recognized the image on the packaging. "Chocolate?"

"Swedish, yes. Lieutenant Salmela is Finnish, he knows some people in Europe who can get me the good stuff. I figured you might want a pick-me-up or something." CBJ-MS smiled.

"Yeah, since she's got her clothes off," K11 sniggered. StG suddenly remembered – she had removed her jacket and shirt so the repair device could get to her arm without impediment. Both articles of clothing had a big hole burned through them, which K11 noted as she held up the navy blue jacket to inspect. "Huh, guess you'll be requisitioning a new coat…"

"Didn't I say to quit it?"

"Thank you," said StG, setting the chocolate on the nearby stand with her burnt clothes. "I… appreciate it."

"How much longer are you here for?" Z-62 spoke up.

"Just a few minutes more," Macek replied for StG. The machine had finished fabricating the replacement flesh and was gently applying the new skin where the chunk was missing. From there, the automated repair systems in StG's body started taking over – such systems would patch small cuts and fix minor impact wounds, and they'd help integrate the new skin as well. After a moment, the new flesh started taking to the old, and StG felt it begin to connect.

"How much time until lunch break's over?" CBJ-MS asked.

Z-62 checked her timepiece. "Half an hour."

"Enough time, then. Miss _het på gröten _over here already had her fill." Type 56-1 grinned unabashedly as CBJ-MS jerked a thumb in reference to her. "We'll head down to requisitions with you to fetch the new coat and shirt."

"I'll go alone," StG said automatically.

"Don't be such a loner," K11 teased. "I've been meaning to head down there anyhow."

"Me too," Z-62 said.

Type 56-1 winked at StG. "Yeah, we all know why. Some handsome lieutenant working the BX, eh?"

"Hey, that's not true!"

"Mm-hm, right. First Lieutenant Volya Alexievich, the youngest officer on base…"

"Stop that!" Z-62 blushed and jabbed a finger at Type 56-1. "I _respect_ him."

"It's not the only thing you respect," K11 muttered. CBJ-MS gained a sudden look of anger at that comment and whipped around.

"Now don't you say–"

"All done!" Macek exclaimed, and StG looked to see that her arm was totally patched, looking good as new. Distracted, CBJ-MS and the other dolls all turned back to watch StG as she climbed out of the station and walked to the stand, putting on her shirt and then the coat. Despite the poor condition of both articles of clothing, StG still made an effort to perfect her appearance, buttoning both and smoothing out any wrinkles.

"Thank you," StG said, turning to face the technician. Macek nodded.

"Anytime. Now get out so I can handle the next one."

There was a small group of dolls milling about in the hallway that looked up as Chrysanthemum exited. Macek stuck her head out the door and glanced at a tablet before shouting "Number 28!"

M60 limped past StG into the repair bay, the other waiting dolls watching on with a jealous stare.

"We'll head to requisitions to get the clothes, and then by then it'll probably be time to get back to work." Even when she wasn't in the field, CBJ-MS was intent on developing a plan of action. "We can brief StG on what's happened while she was in the repair bay."

"It was just a few hours," the German heard herself protesting. "I doubt too much has occurred."

"Well, you'd be surprised," Z-62 cut in. Following CBJ's lead, they started down the hallway. "Kerr seems pretty intent on getting this whole place back together. They've already cleared out the doll corpses and most of the debris during cleanup, and a few teams are also working on sweeping the old Soviet tunnels for potential Sangvis stragglers and properly mapping out the whole system."

"And we're on patrol…"

"Yes, any echelon not occupied has to take one of the patrol shifts."

"Do we know when we're launching an offensive?" K11 asked.

"Sometime soon, I expect," CBJ-MS replied. The Swede pushed her hair back over her shoulders, glancing sideways to make sure everyone was keeping up. "Nobody really wants to wait for another raid. And some of us lost friends."

"Or neural cloud backups," Type 56-1 said gloomily.

"Hey now, we know it wasn't any of us. Type 81 said the full list would be released sometime today."

StG suddenly felt worried. She had yet to find out if hers had been one of the backups stolen by Gestalt. It was easy to pity the dolls that had lost theirs – the possibility of permanent erasure, their memories lost to nothingness forever. For dolls, it was quite literally a fate worse than death – that, at least, they could come back from. But if any of the dolls who had lost their backup were killed by Sangvis, they were not likely to ever return. No android really understood the concept, not since everyone had grown used to life of indefinite length. StG couldn't fathom how humans could live with their own mortality.

The repair bay was part of the IOP sector of the base, and as Chrysanthemum exited the hallway they came out on the edge of the IOP factory floor. It was much more active than usual since Kerr had mandated replacement of as many destroyed dolls as she could, not to mention their dummy links. It was loud and smelled strongly of coolant and plastic, small clumps of technicians moving back and forth between construction bays and the administrative sector. Overhead, a complex conveyor belt system composing the component delivery network ferried parts to the actual pods in which doll construction took place, as well as tubes of coolant and material for the synthetic skin fabricators linked to each pod. It was a perfectly tuned orchestra of parts and mechanics, engineering by IOP to be the best way of managing large-scale doll construction of the sort Griffin needed.

They left the construction area and entered the elevator that would take them up to the rest of the base. When they stepped out into the atrium, StG saw that it had been positively flooded with dolls since she had last passed through. Dolls hurried to their next assigned task as Griffin's uniformed human regulars moved about in squads, some of them even going with dolls to complete whatever their objective was. It was clear that the Commander was intent on putting as much of the base to use as she could, ensuring that no one was idle in the leadup to the inevitable next confrontation with Sangvis.

As always, StG felt awed by the sheer size and magnificence of the atrium. It was not exactly like the rest of the Soviet base, the granite floor and chandeliers lending it a sense of aristocracy and prestige completely unlike the rough-hewn nature of its mountain locale. It felt even larger with all the personnel crowded inside it, and only when CBJ-MS pulled on her sleeve did StG remember she was going somewhere.

"Come with me for a moment, we've got to talk to Makarov. I just saw her over there…"

StG and the rest of Chrysanthemum followed CBJ-MS as they cut through the crowds, muttering "excuse me" on repeat and edging past anyone who wouldn't move in time. Makarov was clearly visible with her tall blue hat, strutting along with Welrod Mk II. "Makarov!"

"Oh, CBJ-MS," the Russian said, turning around. Welrod had her arms crossed, eyeing StG as the other two started conversing. "You saw my message?"

"Yeah. I was going to send something back, but I saw you and Welrod and figured I'd just talk to you now. When's the briefing going to be?"

"Not right now, Serdyukov's still finishing up the intelligence report and I've got to run through it with Kerr first. Welrod's going to be in the field on it, but I'm coordinating from HQ. Rose and Grizzly Team are the two echelons going with you on this one and Cedar Four-Eight is attached for artillery support."

"I expect it'll be like any op where we cover for special forces…"

Makarov shook her head. "Not quite, there'll be some differences. I'll tell you about it during the briefing. Keep an eye on your messages, I'll let you know when it'll be."

"Make sure all the gear's squared away now," Welrod added. "Logistics is going to be backlogged to hell soon, if it isn't already."

"We're headed down to requisitions now, actually. I'll get it finished then."

"Right. I'll see you later, then."

"Aye." CBJ-MS and Makarov exchanged nods before they split, the former leading her echelons towards the logistics hallway.

"So we _are_ being deployed as part of something separate," K11 observed.

"I'll talk to you about it later."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Z-62 huffed. "Can't you say anything else…"

Requisitions was incorporated into the greater logistics wing of the base, which housed accessible stores of ammunition, food, and munitions as well as clothing. Dolls were usually clothed upon leaving the construction bay, but to get surplus or replacement clothes one had to ask the requisitions officer, and they would be brought up from storage. StG had already needed to visit requisitions after a few of her past deployments and knew what to do.

Further down the hallway, the door to the large freight elevator opened and a small motorized cart emerged, Mosin-Nagant at the wheel. StG watched her steer the vehicle down the wide hallway and come to a halt as Type 56-1 raised a hand and waved energetically.

"Hey Mosin!"

"Привет," the Russian said in response. "What're you doing here, 56?"

"We're on break and Sturmgewehr needs a new coat and shirt, so we came to requisitions. I guess you've been working overtime, huh?"

"Yeah, Salmela has me and the others moving supplies up and down all the time. We've gotta do it in bulk, leaves the automated system free for other needs." Mosin-Nagant shrugged and took the wheel of the cart again, letting off the brake and carefully doing an about turn so she was going in the same direction as Chrysanthemum. "I'll head down with you in case Salmela or one of the other helpers isn't in to handle your request."

When they got to the office, Mosin-Nagant waved them through the door as she continued down the hallway. "I'm heading around back to offload these crates, I'll join you inside."

Type 56-1 put her hands on her hips as she stepped inside. "Well, I'm glad to see she's keeping busy. Mosin's one of those people who really can't stand around and wait, if you get what I mean."

"Sure I do." Z-62 cast a glance at K11. "I figured she'd be out on patrol."

"Maybe she's one of the dolls who lost their backups," K11 speculated. "Kerr could be keeping her inside."

"That's not good, Carnation is one of our better teams." CBJ-MS raised an eyebrow and adopted a look of resigned expectancy. "Backups or not, we'll need all hands on deck for the coming offensive."

"You sound like Kerr."

The requisitions room was fairly small, a gated counter against the far right corner and a few rows of shelves on the left. Music played from a speaker on the counter, behind which AK-74u reclined, her feet kicked up and hands behind her head. The song from the radio struck a chord with StG – she had heard that singer's deep, low voice before when some of the other Soviet dolls played music, the steady, slow beat of the song quite recognizable.

_Я вчера слишком поздно лег, сегодня рано встал,_

_Я вчера слишком поздно лег, я почти не спал._

"_74!_" Type 56-1 shouted. The Russian doll snapped her eyes open and swiveled around in the chair to face the other dolls, smiling broadly as she took her shoes down off the counter with the leisurely pace of the unworried.

"Hey there." Her eyes swept lethargically over the other dolls in the room before settling back on Type 56-1. "What can I do for you?"

"Requisitioning some clothes," StG spoke up, stepping past K11 to join Type 56-1 at the counter. AK-74u glanced at the hole in her jacket's arm.

"Right. Uh, what's your DWID?

"61," StG said, just as the door in the back of the small room opened and Mosin-Nagant burst inside, a crates piled up in her arms.

"Ah, sorry for the wait! I'll be over there in a second!"

The blonde doll staggered to the corner and dropped the crates, adjusting her ushanka and doing an about face. "What is it you– oh, AK-74… I thought you were off-shift?"

"I didn't feel like eating lunch with 9A, so I came back here early. I've got it handled, Mosin," AK-74u said from the counter, waving a hand. "You can offload the rest. Salmela said he'd be back in ten minutes."

The brief look of dejection on Mosin-Nagant's face was quickly replaced with an optimistic grin. "I'll get right on it, then. There's a few crates of supplies still down in storage that need to be brought up anyway."

She rushed back out the door. AK-74u turned back to StG, sighing before she sat up in the chair and went to the computer terminal on the desk behind the counter. "Right. DWID 61, you said? Uniform." The terminal was an old Soviet one, repurposed during the renovations that had taken place a couple years back. AK-74u clacked away, waiting a moment for the system to buffer before she punched in a final command and the wall behind her began to rattle.

"Hey, does the Lieutenant want these cartridges with the Kalashnikovs for the regulars, or with the rest of the ammo?" Mosin-Nagant paused as she came inside, another big crate between her arms. AK-74u shrugged.

"Put them with the Kalashnikovs, I guess. Anything surplus we can move back over with the rest of the ammo dump." AK-74u turned back to the other dolls. "The automated system can take a minute to bring it up," she explained to StG. "Salmela keeps lobbying for an overhaul, but it's not really a priority at the moment."

"You said he's getting back soon? I've gotta get my echelon's equipment figured out for the upcoming battle." CBJ-MS crossed her arms, and K11 whispered something about a 'team leader look' to Type 56-1.

"Get in line," AK-74u replied. "Virtually every echelon's coming in and saying the same thing. You got a list?"

"Well, the standard stuff."

"I'll let him know and he'll add you."

"Maybe you don't understand," CBJ-MS said, adding an edge to her voice. "We're not just stuck on containment duty for this upcoming op. We're on the escort team for Hunter. So I think we deserve priority over everyone else in this case, wouldn't you?"

AK-74u stared at CBJ-MS with a passive expression before nodding, becoming more serious. "I'll see to it. There's been quite a few dolls in today asking the same thing a little less politely, so I'm inclined to tell anyone the same thing."

The clattering at the door stopped, and the doll turned around to open it. A small elevator hung in the shaft leading down to the logistics warehouse, in which an automated system had retrieved StG's replacement uniform from one of the shelves and placed it on the elevator. AK-74u reached inside and pulled out the clothing, inspecting it briefly before handing it to StG.

"Thanks," the doll said.

"Of course. That's the only spare uniform we've got, so make sure it doesn't get damaged before we can order another one."

StG studied the folded clothing. It was of the typical precision of IOP's uniform producer, unmarked except for the IOP and Griffin logos. It smelled like polymer and detergent, the brass only slightly tarnished from its time in storage.

"Very nice," K11 said. "Guys dig a chick in uniform."

"Why are _you_ saying that?!" Type 56-1 looked at K11 in horror. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, chicks dig a guy in uniform, so it follows that it'd go the other way around, right?"

"No! And stop saying chicks!"

"Oh, would you two stop it?" CBJ-MS put a hand on K11's shoulder. "Be quiet." K11 seemed to bite back a witty reply. Their team leader made an exaggerated expression of vexation before smiling at StG. "Right. Let's get out of here, then. Sturmgewehr can change in the dorm, then it's back to the grindstone."

As they made to leave, Z-62 turned around. "Hey, 74?"

"What's up?"

"Is the Junior Lieutenant in today?"

AK-74u turned around from where she was messing with the speaker. "Volya? He took some supplies down to the barracks a while ago, hasn't returned."

"Oh," Z-62 said, doing her best to hide her dejection.

As they walked along the hallway, StG stared down at her uniform. _Make sure it doesn't get damaged._

If the last combat engagement was anything to go by, Sturmgewehr doubted the uniform would get out of the next one alive.


	28. SuperSASS Chapter 10

In unison, SASS and RFB swung the body onto the cart with the others, nestling it between a gap. It belonged to Type 64, the black-haired doll's head lolling to the side as coolant started dribbling from a bullet wound, winding its way down across the other bodies to join the growing pool of purple-red fluid collecting at the bottom of the cart.

"That's the last one," RFB said to Grizzly as their team leader approached them. "Are we done here?"

Her voice was muffled behind the mask she wore. Every doll working cleanup down in Doll Services had to wear a full face mask and protective gear so the concrete dust didn't settle on their skin and corrode it. They could last longer in the stuff than humans, but the long-term consequences were apparently something Kerr and IOP didn't want to deal with.

Grizzly went to the cart's controls and pressed the "return" button, starting its automated journey back to the elevator, where the corpses would be brought up for disposal. "No, we've got another assignment," she replied as the cart trundled off. "That's the last of the dolls out here, but we're working our way back down to the lower levels and digging through the rubble to find any other corpses and help clear the Sangvis entry point so it can be sealed."

"Come on, it's been forever…"

"Lunch just ended," M590 said sternly. "Let's get a move on. HS2000 said that the rest was pretty unexplored, remember?"

They trudged down the hallway. They had spent the entire morning clearing bodies from the upper level and only just now finished the second, which was by far the worst. The initial Sangvis break-in as well as the retreat and pursuit of Sangvis had all passed through this area, which had been littered with both Griffin and Sangvis corpses. The least enjoyable part of it all was inspecting each corpse to find if Gestalt had been the one to destroy it. If so, the body would be marked for incineration and set aside for the followup team. Otherwise, it went on the cart and up to the IOP sector for disposal and recycling. SASS counted herself lucky that she had yet to find a doll she knew personally amongst the corpses, but there had still been an excess of grisly deaths for her to grimace at.

Ingram pulled at her protective gear, clearly disliking it. The mask and gloves were hard to deal with, SASS conceded, but she had gotten used to it, and the alternative was spending a long time in the repair bay. HS2000 had told them as such when she briefed them on the cleanup, saying that concrete dust corrosion could impede their effectiveness down the line – and with a battle on the horizon, no one wanted that.

Power had not yet been restored to the second floor, so Grizzly Team had to navigate the hallways by the light of the emergency lighting system, which washed everything crimson and made everything hard to focus on. They had all brought flashlights, but kept them off to preserve the battery and only used them when necessary. The red light shone through the pall of dust, combining to make it difficult to look any further than a few meters ahead.

"Hey, look at that!" RFB pointed ahead to a mound that materialized in front of them, looking uncannily like a fallen human.

Grizzly's eyebrows shot up behind her mask. "Wow, an Aegis. Haven't seen one of those since we were in Rocksert, right, Em-5?" Everyone came to a halt in front of the military android. It had fallen on its back, a large hole blasted in the front of it and shrapnel scattered about it.

"Didn't someone say that Calypso and Chrysanthemum had encountered one? This must be it," M590 replied. Grizzly walked closer and leant over the hole, inspecting the damage.

"This looks like K11's handiwork alright. I guess Sangvis wanted some heavy backup, huh?" The Aegis looked rather small sprawled on its back, but SASS knew that they were quite large standing up. Ingram knelt by its baton, inspecting the weapon.

"Hey, this is pretty neat. Big, though."

"Don't touch it," M590 said. "Parapluie and all."

Ingram stood and folded her arms across her chest petulantly. "You guys are way too paranoid about that. What's the harm in being curious?"

"Horror movie protagonists," RFB said.

"There's that one saying about the cat," SASS added.

"And the debacle with Parapluie and the AR team a while back," M590 finished.

"Well – I'm different," said Ingram, searching for an argument and finding none.

"Alright. When you're hunted by Griffin for being a traitor, try telling them that and see how well it works."

SASS toed a bit of scrap. "How did Sangvis even get an Aegis in here?"

"Probably the same way they did everything else, through the tunnels." Bending over the Aegis, M590 peered into its darkened eyes. "I'm surprised they bothered bringing one, but Sangvis never skimps when they don't have to."

Grizzly thumbed her radio. "HS2000? Yes, it's Grizzly. We found the Aegis that was reported. Yeah... yeah. Want us to wait? Sure."

"What's the deal?"

"PPSh-41 is coming down with the power loader. We'll help her if she needs it, then move on."

"How much do we have left to clear?" RFB asked.

"Maybe sixty one thousand square foot. Lotta rooms to check. Lotta corpses down here."

Grizzly didn't sound happy. _No one is_, SASS thought. Everyone in the base felt the effects of the raid, especially the cleanup teams. It didn't do well for the psyche (insofar as dolls' psyche went) to load bodies onto carts all day, but they did it quicker than humans, so Kerr had ordered it. Ingram seemed the least perturbed, but RFB was obviously depressed and unwilling, just like the dolls on the last shift – support squad Glazunov, G43 leading them as they passed by Grizzly Team in the opposite direction. SASS empathized with the look of dejection – no, depression – on their faces.

An echo came down the hallway toward the echelon, thumping footsteps of the power loader signifying the arrival of Papasha. She was by far the most skilled in its operation – a necessary trait, considering how often it was needed as of late. Several tons worth of debris had to be moved to allow the cleanup efforts to proceed, and Papasha had been working almost nonstop to assist clearing rubble and moving anything the individual doll teams couldn't.

Papasha stopped the power loader just short of Grizzly, leaning forward to get a look at the Aegis. "Oh wow… guess you're not as strong as you used to be, eh Grizzly?"

"Oh, shut it. Need any help with this?"

"No, I think I'll be fine taking it in segments. I'll radio if I need help."

"Gotcha. Let's go, guys." Grizzly started walking further down the hallway, SASS and the others following quickly.

"Hey, why are we even using radios? Zener would be so much faster," RFB observed.

"There's worries that Gestalt left some sort of Parapluie virus in the local cloud. We're under orders not to use Zener."

Everyone paused by the next group of corpses, taking in the view. It looked like the Sangvis and Griffin dolls had gotten in very close range of one another, and no one had gotten out alive. Sangvis dolls riddled with bullets collapsed against one wall while Griffin dolls had fallen against the other, some of them apparently having survived long enough to sit up and keep themselves alive. The rivulets of coolant collecting in pools between each doll made the outcome of their futile efforts clear enough, however.

SASS stopped and looked down at the doll at her feet. It was AK-47. In the emergency red lighting, her corpse was turned crimson to match the coolant, which had mixed with concrete dust to form a thick cement around her wound. Her rifle, twisted by a powerful grip, was flung against the far wall. SASS peered at AK-47's wound, saw how it looked like something had impaled her – something that went through to the other side.

"That's a Gestalt wound," Grizzly said after giving the stab a cursory glance. "Tag it and move on."

A few of the other dolls in the hallway – Galil, MP5, SIG-510 – had a similar wound. Every one of them was pushed off to the side and had a spot of spray paint put on their forehead by Grizzly. The rest were piled onto the new cart that had been sent to the hallway, which dutifully followed at a distance.

In silence, the cleaners continued down the hallway. Janitors, fixers, whatever term humans might use, SASS could only see herself as a cleaner. Cleaning up the pitiful remnants of the raid, cleaning up a mistake, cleaning up the dead, destroyed bodies of comrades and friends and fellow soldiers. She knew some of the dolls, knew quite a few, and a pang of resentment and depression pulled at her emotion module whenever she and RFB put one of them onto the cart.

There was HK45. She'd been SASS's guide around the base when she first arrived. Her hat had fallen on its side in a pool of coolant. M590 didn't need any help picking her up.

There was BM59, the first doll to make eye contact and smile at SASS. Her forehead had been broken in, and glistening parts of her popped out through the hole when Ingram and RFB dropped her on the cart.

There was one of Type 81's dummies that she kept in different wings of the base. This one was missing an arm, which Grizzly found stuck underneath a Ripper and threw on the cart next to the black-haired adjutant. Her usually serene face was frozen in an expression of fear and defiance that SASS found hard to tear her gaze away from.

Grizzly tapped SASS on the arm as they walked along, knocking the sniper out of her stupor. "Hey, SASS. You doing alright?"

"Yes." _No._ She was thinking of the training simulation with NTW mere weeks ago, when she had stabbed _senpai_. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Look – if you don't want to go on, I can talk to HS-"

"I'm fine." SASS kept her eyes on the floor in front of her. She could deal with it. She wasn't naïve or innocent or inexperienced like she had been when she first came to S17. She had grown up.

Or so she told herself.

"Fine," said Grizzly, shrugging. She seemed relatively nonplussed by all the corpses they were handling, but that was to be expected from someone so experienced. The team leader jogged in front of the others and held up a hand as a signal to be seen through the dusty half-light. "Okay everyone, let's stop here. This is near where Sangvis busted into the base, so move slowly and keep an eye out for any weakened walls or ceilings – I don't want anyone trapped under rubble. Check thoroughly for corpses. We'll split up to make it go faster, so holler if you need help with anything."

"I'll take the storage rooms," RFB said. Grizzly nodded.

"Great. I'll head down the left hallway."

"I've got the center," Ingram called out.

M590 glanced at Grizzly. "I'll handle the storage rooms with RFB, there's more than a few of them."

Grizzly pointed to the left hallway. "Then you'll go down that way, SASS. Everyone can come back here once they're done, and if you're not back in half an hour then we come searching. Let's go."

It was quiet except for the sound of footsteps as SASS slowly padded down the hallway. There weren't any corpses here, though plasma burns had marred the wall in between chunks of concrete knocked loose by bullets. SASS reached for her flashlight – the emergency lights had gone out and it was becoming increasingly difficult to see.

In front of her was a pile of rubble blocking the hallway. It appeared that the ceiling had fallen in by some sort of shockwave, the rock ripping free and pulling down electrical cable and reinforced concrete with it. SASS shined the flashlight beam around, looking for a sign of anything small enough to move. _There._ SASS set the flashlight down and grabbed the chunk of rock, pulling hard on it until it suddenly broke free.

Then the rest of the pile fell in a cloud of dust, temporarily blinding SASS as she fell onto her back. When it cleared and she found her flashlight, a new hole had opened in the pile, big enough to squeeze through.

It was a tight fit, but SASS made it without any of her clothes or gear tearing. She fumbled for her flashlight – not a single light was on this side of the collapse – and swung the beam to the ground.

There were more than a few corpses.

The Sangvis stretched on. Their bodies littered the hallway to the farthest end of the flashlight beam, fallen over each other and leaking coolant, bullets through their heads and torsos and arms and legs, bullets in every Sangvis sprawled on the ground, all the way up to the rubble pile, where M1919A4 was laid out on a slab of rock, her clothes burnt, skin twisted and body cratered with plasma burns. Her namesake weapon had fallen at her feet, near which Spitfire's body lay face down on the concrete floor. Hundreds of shell casings covered the ground around them, shimmering in the light, surrounding Spitfire and M1919A4 like a heavenly aura.

_Oh no._

This had been their last stand. SASS peered at the empty belts of ammunition, steadily becoming more and more sure that she knew what had occurred. Coolant coated one end of the machine gun and the butt of Spitfire's pistol – a few of the Sangvis had broken helmets and limbs – the burn on M1919A4's chest was so big that SASS knew it had to be point blank.

_You got the action you wanted_, she thought. It had been so long ago on that hilltop that M1919A4 pined for the sort of operations SASS got sent on. Just three weeks past she had watched her play the drums at the show. _Oh, I'm so sorry._

Dimly, SASS knew that it wasn't her place or her job to apologize. It was hard to look away from M1919A4's dim eyes, to think about anything else then her brief memories of when the doll had been talking and smiling and joking with M2 and walking and wishing she was doing something else – SASS took a breath.

M1919A4 stayed perfectly still.

_This is a tomb._

Trembling, SASS knelt down by the doll. Her right hand was tightened into a fist, looking for all the world like she had been bringing it over her hand to swing a punch when she was knocked back onto the concrete. The brown sidecap was singed and torn where it sat limply next to its owner's head, its tattered look reflected in the rest of M1919A4's uniform. Her box of ammunition was empty, jammed into a gap in the rubble and with a belt leading from it to the gun.

Moving to Spitfire, SASS hesitated just a second before carefully pushing the handgun doll over onto her back, removing her hat and –

…

When she worked up the courage to look again, she couldn't do anything else but stare at Spitfire's horrifically disfigured face. Half of it had been burnt by plasma, ripping away at the synthetic skin and bone, boiling the artificial fluids and blackening everything. The side of her head was a mess of melted plastic and metal, and when she got close the putrid odor nearly made SASS choke and drop her. Nothing was left but a disfigured visage not even reminiscent of a human.

She gingerly set the doll back down and placed the black hat over her face.

For a little while, SASS stood between the two dolls, listening to her breaths and running her thumb back and forth around the flashlight button. She couldn't quite process it all. _Do they still have backups?_ She would have to check the list. Another task to handle after this cleanup. Another thing to remember. Another doll that might be dead.

SASS walked to the end of the hallway and found a hole blasted into the wall. Slowly, she reached for her radio as she stared into the tunnel, only hearing her own intermittent breaths.

"...Grizzly. It's SASS."

"Go ahead."

Grizzly's voice was unworried and busy, exactly the opposite of how SASS felt. It helped bring her back to reality a little, if only temporarily.

"I found the Sangvis point of entry. There's a bunch of bodies here, a couple Griffin dolls got trapped in with a load of Vespids. I can't move them out through the rubble."

"Alright, leave them alone for now. We'll come back later with Papasha. Head into the tunnel and check for anything else, but don't take too long. Radio if you need anything. Grizzly out."

The radio clicked, and SASS was once again left in silence. The doll turned around and took one final look at the entombed dolls behind her before ducking through the hole and into the tunnel.

SASS reached up and pulled her mask off. There wasn't much corrosive dust in the tunnel, so she figured it'd be fine to go without the obstructive apparatus for at least a little. She could hear something over her own breathing now, the echoing _shuff shuff_ of her footsteps as she plodded down the tunnel, the rustle of her clothes, the shifting of the rifle slung over her shoulder. _At least there aren't any corpses._

It wasn't fair, SASS believed. Didn't Sangvis care about dolls? Not in a material sense, but emotionally – Ringleaders had emotions, she knew. They were all needless cruel, from what SASS had heard, and she supposed that that was why Sangvis so brutally slaughtered Griffin. Gestalt seemed to take it a step further, not even bothering to speak or pretend at humanity unless it had to. That was the real advantage Sangvis had, their unemotional nature. There was no worry about their morale, because there was none to begin with.

Without completely realizing it, SASS grew convinced of what she had to do. She had known it for a long, long time already, from Kerr's orders, from the directive Griffin implanted, from NTW-20's mentoring, from Grizzly's guidance, from what SASS had already been doing for nearly a year now. _Kill Sangvis._ Oh, she had known it, but now SASS became cognizant of something else about it. Being ordered to do it was one thing. Seeing the burnt corpses in the hallway invoked another. Something resolved itself in SASS's digimind, a resolution quite unlike a programmed directive or order she was forced to obey. No, she wanted to destroy the Sangvis dolls very much, chief of them Gestalt, who had gotten the others killed in the first place. Killed Ingram, back in the hangar. Killed so many other dolls that were spray painted and set aside for incineration.

SASS swallowed and blinked. She could hear voices up ahead, see beams of light swinging about, and she stopped walking to listen to the echoes.

"...I'm just saying…"

"I know you're 'just saying', so just _shut up._"

"Play nice, please."

"Hey, is that a Griffin doll up ahead? You there!"

SASS waved a hand. "I'm Griffin!"

"Good, didn't want to have to shoot you," one of the dolls said as they drew closer, shining her flashlight in SASS's face.

"Hey, watch where you're shining that." Another reached out and pushed the light down. Once the glare was out of her face, SASS could see that it was ARX-160, who smiled at the rifle doll before staring down PPK. "Guess there's someone else in the tunnel, eh?"

"I came from Doll Services. We found the entry point back there," SASS explained.

"Finally. Well, I guess that's our work cut out for us. Were there any side hallways back there?"

"I wasn't really paying attention."

"Can't be that much left in this branch," GSh-18 said, putting her hands on her hips. SASS glanced at the fourth group member, DP-27, then back to ARX-160.

"Sure," said the assault rifle. "PPK, how long until our shift's over? I don't want to spend any more time back here than we have to…"

"Long enough," the doll sang back. ARX-160 sighed audibly. "Well, we'll walk that way with you, just to be sure. You are heading back, right?"

"I was searching for any corpses," SASS replied.

"There aren't any, the place is clean."

"Then yes, I'm returning."

"Great!"

Thankfully, the other dolls were quiet as they walked back down the tunnel. ARX-160 and PPK exchanged the occasional word while DP-27 continued shining her flashlight around in the search for irregularities.

"Hey, SuperSASS," GSh-17 asked, matching pace with the rifle doll.

"Yes?"

"Have you found any dolls still alive?"

SASS was glad she was behind the flashlights, because she couldn't hide the look of pain on her face. Spitfire… "No, they've all been… destroyed."

"That's no good," GSh-17 said, and then she was quiet.

For a while they walked in silence, at a much slower pace thanks to the group. SASS realized that she had walked quite a distance, and hoped that Grizzly hadn't panicked yet.

The tunnel felt different when she was with other dolls. SASS felt more uncomfortable and on edge as she looked at the dark corners and rusted equipment, despite the others around her. Or perhaps it was because of them: because of the way ARX-160 kept one hand around the grip of her gun, how GSh-17 patted her holster from time to time, how DP-27's flickering eyes belied the casual swagger she adopted, how PPK's laugh was so strained. They were all on edge, waiting for a battle – even though the tunnel was dead silent but for their footsteps and muttering. SASS heard the group slowly fall silent, and then there was nothing.

Soon, ARX-160 called a halt, and SASS decided to pause instead of continuing on. The doll was shining her flashlight on an unmarked door, around which the others gathered. ARX-160 stood still for a moment before turning to PPK and remarking, "This isn't on the schematics."

"Well, we ought to explore it."

ARX-160 heaved another sigh and looked over her shoulder to DP-27. "Hey, do you have any idea what this is?"

"Don't ask me," the blonde replied. "It's old Soviet stuff, they didn't write down half the stuff they did normally, nevermind secret tunnels… wait. I'm Russian, so I'm supposed to know something about it?"

"Well, that _is _why we brought you," PPK said.

"_No, it isn't,_" ARX-160 said through clenched teeth. "Let's just get it over with, then. SASS, are you coming?"

"No, I should get back to my team."

"Very well. Good luck, then."

"Sure."

GSh-17 turned to SASS again. "If you need any immediate repair work, you can call on the open frequency and I'll come!"

_I doubt that we'll find any dolls still alive._ "Thank you, both."

SASS waved and then turned to continue on. She was glad to have not spent much time with those dolls – Grizzly and the rest of that echelon were plenty already. If anything, she needed some time to herself. M1919A4 and Spitfire still weighed heavy on her mind, and SASS told herself again that she would need to check if they were on the list of lost backups.

Just for closure.

As she walked, she cried.


	29. Makarov Chapter 4

_Strategy._ Oh, how Makarov loved it. It was unbelievably cathartic to see everything slot together, to plan, to coordinate… though the last was often as tedious as it was rewarding.

She stood in front of Major Bezpalov, Captain Koksharov, CBJ-MS, Welrod MkII, NTW-20, Tokarev, and Grizzly. This was the auxiliary briefing room, much smaller than the main one, and her audience sat with arms crossed or hands clasped atop the tables.

Makarov sighed and began speaking. "Okay, here's the plan. We're pushing up through this narrow part of the valley, so Rose and Chrysanthemum teams will land initially to secure the area. Then the mortar team and Grizzly will land here afterwards. Then all three echelons will push towards Gestalt's location–"

"Which is?" Grizzly cut in. Makarov glanced only briefly at the American.

"We haven't got a fix on the exact coordinates, but somewhere within this circle. Once that area is reached, it will be cleared of Sangvis. Then, Hunter will insert here, move in, and finish off the Ringleader, with mortar and echelon support as necessary."

"So long as Gestalt actually engages and doesn't run, I anticipate it to be a quick engagement," NTW-20 said.

Welrod lowered her mug of tea from her mouth. "That sounds too simple."

"I agree," CBJ-MS nodded. "Do we know anything about Sangvis troop strength?"

"Preliminary surveillance and scans would indicate a medium to heavy presence with a strong unit composition," Makarov replied. "That's why we're sending the best in."

Grizzly snorted. "Sure…"

"What about the cordon? Will it hold against breakout attempts?" CBJ-MS continued asking.

"Yes, we're deploying nearly full-strength echelons and organic mortar teams as part of the cordon, with fairies and a few spare echelons on standby for support." _It'll be a nightmare to resupply and keep everyone coordinated, but that's what Zener is for. They'll be kept in line enough to keep everything running smoothly._

Another thought ran through Makarov's mind, that _no plan survives contact with the enemy_, but she ignored it for the moment.

Captain Koksharov sat forward and raised his hand. He was the CO of the mortar section that was part of Griffin's 6th Organic Infantry battalion, the detachment of human troops that formed S17's base garrison. He was younger than many of the other officers in the garrison, and Makarov was surprised that he wasn't in the NSU military at the moment.

"Is Sangvis expected to try and assault our position?" Koksharov asked, his brow creased in worry. "We won't be able to defend ourselves for very long without some sort of escort."

Makarov frowned. She had paid less thought to that matter than she should've, and she didn't have the answer that Koksharov would want. "Our guess is that Sangvis will focus on the invading echelons rather than you. If you are the subject of an attack, one of the on-station echelons will move to assist. Our forces are already stretched thin just holding the line while the assault is under way, so we can only spare forces when necessary."

Koksharov nodded silently, sitting back in his chair. Makarov looked back to Bezpalov before continuing. "Because most of the helicopter wing has been assigned to duty with the cordon, we'll only have two with which to insert the troops. There'll be about a ten to fifteen minute delay between Rose and Chrysanthemum landing and Grizzly and the mortar team landing."

"Are we going to have any other form of support?" CBJ-MS asked.

"No," Makarov replied bluntly. "Our fairies are being concentrated in the cordon."

The room deflated a little. "Great…" Grizzly sighed, raising her eyebrows and sliding down in her chair a little. "Just great."

"I know it's not ideal," Makarov allowed. The exchange with Kerr in the Commander's office came back to her: _They don't have to like it. They don't have to agree with it. They have to understand it. _"But it's how it's going to be."

After answering a few more questions, Makarov declared the meeting adjourned and said that she would convene a second, final meeting to discuss any changes in the plan or intelligence before the deployment. As the others filed out of the room, Welrod approached Makarov, arms akimbo.

"Well, it won't be a milk run, I can say that."

"Yes," Makarov agreed, thinking about what the operation would take. A huge amount of coordination, resources, and stamina, not to mention what utter chaos the command center would be in with Makarov, Jericho, and Major Bezpalov commanding their individuals facets of the assault, Kerr running around supervising and coordinating everything the entire time. Then there was Lieutenant Salmela running logistics, MP41 managing comms, MP-448 handling repair orders and manpower, and Serdyukov providing everyone with intelligence as needed. MP41 would help ease the load when actually communicating with echelons, but the stress would still be considerable. Makarov knew the command center better than anyone besides Kerr and Jericho, but she would be commanding in real-time against a real enemy, something she didn't have as much experience with as she would've liked. The Commander seemed to believe in Makarov, that was true, but that didn't make it any _easier_.

"That Koksharov fellow, he's a bit strange, not at all like the normal Soviet vets you get in Griffin."

"Yes," Makarov said again. She was distracted with thoughts on what she was doing next – the past week had been a storm of trying to coordinate everything for the operation. The Commander had given it the codename Hammerhead. Try as she might, Makarov could not shake the deep sense of worry she had about it. She assured herself that she was just overthinking it.

"Right. Well, I've got to go meet with my echelon," Welrod said. Makarov nodded.

"All right. I'll let you know about any developments."

Welrod nodded and stepped out. Makarov then turned to the two dolls still seated – NTW-20 and Tokarev, the two dolls from Hunter. They had sat quietly, but now NTW-20 leaned forward.

"Yes?" Makarov said.

"Have you determined anything else about Gestalt's location?"

"No, Serdyukov has come up with nothing. Our airborne survey data from last year indicated nothing out of the ordinary there."

Tokarev's eyes flashed up. "Could there be another survey made, or a ground reconnaissance mission done?"

"No, the area is considered too dangerous. We don't want another incident like with Yew Team."

"I respect that, but this circle is nearly twenty square miles. I'd rather not spend precious time searching for a Ringleader that happens to be very good at not being found. There must be some way to narrow it down," NTW-20's tone was a deal different than it had been in the command center during the last meeting. This time she wasn't playing up her confidence at all. Makarov considered their options briefly.

"No. Nothing that would work in time. Once the cordon is in place, we'll try to begin closing the circle, which will help with search efforts. It's hoped that the initial three-team landing before you will locate Gestalt beforehand."

"And if they do? If they encounter Gestalt? Could turn into a bloodbath real quick."

NTW-20 looked genuinely concerned, which piqued Makarov's curiosity. Since when did she care about the well-being of other doll units? Her squadron wasn't even from S17 – none of them were – they had gotten other dolls killed before. Maybe the pink-haired hunter had something at stake here besides the mission.

"It won't," Makarov assured her. "These are some of our best teams." _That we can afford._

"Grizzly, really? Why not Cornflower, Lilac, Carnation, even Leonid?"

"Too many dolls had their neural cloud backups stolen and we can't afford to put them in such a dangerous position. Cornflower is directing the cordon, we need at least one of the elite echelons on the line there."

"Fine," NTW-20 ceded. Makarov nodded. She agreed with NTW-20's wishes, but the world of logistics and effective unit distribution was what really dictated what assets went where for this operation. _They don't have to like it. They don't have to agree with it. They have to understand it._

"Well, please contact me if you have any questions, and I'll let you know of any developments." Makarov turned off the map projector and closed her folder, holding it against her chest with one hand. "Thank you for your time."

"Of course," said NTW-20.

The next stop was Logistics. As Makarov walked, she continued thinking about NTW-20. She didn't doubt that she and her team could deal with Gestalt, but Makarov wondered what it would take. Sacrifice? Time? A change in tactics? The last was what really worried her. Sacrifice was allowed – expected, even – there was leeway built into the plan if one part of it wasn't completed on time, which _would_ happen, Makarov knew, but changing tactics to accomodate for Hunter and Gestalt would have ramifications that simply could not happen.

Everything about Operation Hammerhead, from the biggest maneuver to the single cartridge, had been and was being meticulously planned with an amount of deliberation Makarov had never quite experienced in her life. Hours of tactical meetings with Commander Kerr and the rest of the command team, with logistics, with Major Bezpalov, with Captain Koksharov, with the individual pilots, with the echelon leaders, with NTW-20 and the finicky members of Hunter, with MP-448, even with the IOP scientist Schuhart to discuss the nanites and Gestalt. He always, always emphasized the danger of contact with Gestalt, the nanites – the danger they posed to it all. Contact was dangerous, if not outright fatal, and dolls were to be destroyed immediately if they were showing signs of nanite contamination. It was a sickly order, but Makarov had seen RPD, seen what she was like, knew that contamination was a necessary evil.

She was loathe to let anything get in the way of the plan. It was inevitable that something would go awry, yes, even dolls weren't infallible, but it was the worry of the unknown that spooked Makarov. She had accounted for nearly every possible problem that could arise, but the variables – how many troops did Sangvis have? What could Gestalt really do? Would a Griffin echelon mess up? – were what tugged at her mind. The possibility that something could go wrong and that Makarov wouldn't even have a contingency in place to deal with it. There would be other command personnel, even Kerr herself, but Makarov was intent on proving herself in this operation. It would simply look bad to need help.

The Logistics wing was, technically speaking, the second largest section of the base, behind the IOP wing. It would be the largest if IOP didn't keep their immense parts storage warehouse of parts next to the construction chamber, but Logistics still took up a gargantuan chunk of the S17 installation. A great deal of it was just the storage space: space for food, water, ammunition, weapons, heavy weapons like mortars and launchers, fuel for the helicopters and ground vehicles, spare parts to repair the vehicles, medical equipment for the humans, clothing and uniforms, construction materials in case the base needed repairs, and the wealth and wide variation of personal items that the hundreds of dolls and humans residing in the base ordered every week. The stocks would hold for six months of continuous, steady usage, but those calculations only held true if the base was operating normally, with minimal Sangvis presence. The logistical strain of Operation Hammerhead was unprecedented for S17, since they had never needed to fully encircle an enemy like they would Gestalt.

Lieutenant Salmela had served, Makarov knew, in the Finnish military at the tail end of World War III, and the battalion scale that S17 operated on was miniscule compared to the literal armies of men that Salmela likely helped to keep clothed, fed, and supplied. Operation Hammerhead was a relatively small battle to veterans like Kerr and Salmela, but for Makarov and Jericho and the other command dolls, it was quite the jump up in scale from previous engagements. Technically speaking their Digiminds could easily handle the strain, but as with all things, Makarov's efficiency was dragged down by worry. Even putting aside tactics, the amount of coordination required to keep well over twenty echelons of dolls supplied in the field boggled the Digimind. Helicopters that were not tasked with actual combat asset transportation would be used to ferry the tons of ammunition and MREs to dolls in the cordon at what Makarov anticipated to be a constant rate – though that too would depend on how much Sangvis pushed the cordon and how effective each echelon was at supply conservation. If a helicopter was somehow shot down or disabled or broke down, it would slow the rest of the supply line and would need compensation.

But that was not the only problem. Because almost every doll in S17's combat echelons used a different cartridge, it was impossible to actually standardize supply packages. Every echelon needed different ammunition, so Lieutenant Salmela was forced to create customized packages for each echelon. This meant that certain supply packages could only be delivered to certain echelons, and therefore, whatever helicopter was carrying that specific package could only deliver to that specific echelon. The little to no cross-compatibility in ammunition types meant that if one supply package delivery was missed for whatever reason, another supply package could not be shared between echelons to temporarily fix the discrepancy. This lack of standardization was what irked Makarov the most about Griffin's inane practice of assigning every doll a different weapon. At least Soviet and NATO weapons shared similar cartridges – 7.62x51, 5.56, 5.45, and so on – but there were an equal amount of weapons that had absolutely no shared cartridges.

All of this worried Makarov as she entered the Logistics wing. Her only reassurance is that logistics was not her jurisdiction, it was Lieutenant Salmela's. He was a capable individual, one of the best (aside from the insane logistics officer from S09), and if anyone would go wrong, it would not be his fault. But Makarov still worried regardless. Gestalt seemed to know exactly how to hit Griffin the worst, and Makarov suspected that Operation Hammerhead would be no different. _That_ couldn't be planned for, not really, and Gestalt was the root of almost all uncertainty in the plan.

The Logistics wing was bustling with activity. The sections that were not used for storage were mostly staging areas for the supply packages to be put together and sorted, as well as administrative space for all the dolls and humans that staffed Requisitions and Logistics. Several dolls at the wheels of small carts were tugging around crates of supplies, continuously bringing up new items from the warehouses on the lower levels. Despite the wide hallway, Makarov had to watch her step so she wasn't sandwiched between two carts, even as dolls from the Logistics wing maneuvered the chaotic hallways like there was no danger at all.

Makarov stepped into one of the staging areas and quickly moved outside of the flow of traffic. The Logistics wing would be like this until the operation was over, and then for some more time after that, transferring all the extra matériel back down to the warehouse and inventorying it all. Makarov was glad she didn't have Salmela's job, though she wondered if it would be easier or harder than tactics. _They do say that all strategy is logistics, after all._

From one side of the warehouse, Webley approached. The doll waved at Makarov in a subdued fashion as Makarov turned to look at her. Webley had been assigned to Logistics when her neural cloud backup was stolen, so it was pure coincidence that she had seemingly found her calling there.

"Miss Makarov," the doll said, stopping in front of her. "Welcome to Logistics."

"Is Lieutenant Salmela present?"

"Yes, he's on the opposite side of this floor."

Webley gestured and began walking, and Makarov followed. "You've got quite the number of dolls going out on this one, huh?"

"Yes."

"At least you come down to check in person. The Commander almost always sends her bloody adjutant."

"Mm." Type 81 was an exemplary assistant, and she had a unique propensity for efficiency and an uncanny ability in wielding the Commander's authority as an adjutant, something no other doll could claim to have. To many, Type 81 _was_ the Commander, since Kerr rarely chose to interact one-on-one with dolls outside of the command staff. She was quite aloof, so Type 81 handled nearly all the personnel and administrative duties that other Griffin and Kryuger commanders usually worked on. It was perhaps not the arrangement G&K intended its Commanders to have, but with such a large base, no one could reasonably expect Kerr to familiarize herself with every doll and deal with each the personality quirk of each one. Most dolls were left to their own devices with minimal monitoring from Type 81, MP-448, and some of the other command staff and human doll technicians, though a select few who _required_ the Commander's supervision, like G41 or P7, were kept in a single echelon. _Likely so Kerr can deal with them all at once._

As they approached the other side of the floor, Makarov caught sight of Lieutenant Salmela conversing with Mosin-Nagant. The Lieutenant had forgone the typical Griffin logistics officer uniform in exchange for the same type of fatigues the rest of the human garrison wore, the Griffin patch placed above the Finnish flag on his arm. "...bring up more of the 82 millimeter shells," he told Mosin. "We'll need to put together additional supply packages for the mortar teams."

"Yessir!" Mosin-Nagant saluted and stepped away, smiling at Makarov as she went. Salmela caught Makarov's eye and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Miss Makarov. Webley, how's it looking?"

"Everything's all Sir Garnet, Lieutenant."

Salmela smiled lightly. "Right. Wait here, then, while I talk with Makarov."

The command doll didn't miss a beat. "Thank you for your time, Lieutenant. I know you're especially busy at the moment."

To his credit, Salmela merely shrugged, as if coordinating logistics for the entire base was a minor thing. "It's all fine, I can afford to leave everyone alone for a few minutes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Not especially, I was just coming down to check on the progress." Makarov placed her hands on her hips and turned to survey the staging area. "Where are we at now?"

"Well, the assembled supply packages are enough to keep the cordon running for twenty-four hours, presuming a mean supply consumption corresponding to, say, one engagement with Sangvis every half-hour. Do you have any clue how often–"

"No, we're not at all sure how much Sangvis will press the cordon."

"Unfortunate. Well, I'll prepare for another twelve hours, and depending on how the operation plays out at the beginning we can continue putting together more packages. In the meantime, I've got teams sorting sets of night vision equipment, if it at all becomes necessary."

"That is acceptable," Makarov said in approval.

"All right. What about the human garrison?"

_The organic battalion._ Even Makarov could not envision a scenario where the operation went so poorly that the human soldiers would need to be sent in, but she supposed that, as with so much else, anything was possible. "I don't anticipate them being deployed."

"Well, it's what commanders _don't_ anticipate that causes them the most trouble," Salmela espoused, grinning. Makarov knew that. Was he just kidding around? "I've already had some surplus 5.45 and 7.62 brought up for them, don't worry."

"I see," was all Makarov could think of to say at the moment.

Salmela looked to Webley. "Why don't you head over to requisitions and help AKS-74u do an inventory?"

"She can do it herself," the British doll replied. _That's true enough_, Makarov thought.

"Fine, I _order_ you to go help her inventory."

Webley stared at Salmela for a split second, visibly unhappy, before marching off toward the exit. The logistics officer watched her go, then turned back to Makarov.

"One more thing, Lieutenant. There's been a change in echelon composition."

"Which?"

"Chrysanthemum and Hunter. I've sent it to your PDA, but suffice to say that any seven ninety-two Kurz you put in Chrysanthemum's packages can be removed."

"Ah," Salmela said. "And what am I replacing it with?"

"Five fifty-six."

"Easy fix." Salmela brought out the tablet he used for all logistics work and started tapping, presumably altering supply orders. "Any reason why?"

"We got a doll back, MP-448 had to shuffle around an echelon to make space for her."

"Interesting. I wouldn't have done that so close to the start of an operation, but..."

Makarov couldn't resist. "You sound like you were a Commander once."

"I was offered the position," Salmela said. "In a rearline echelon. Logistics, light patrol duties, something to ease me into the role. They needed officers after Butterfly, you see. I declined, so they pushed me up here, to one of the frontline sectors."

He grinned again. "I liked it _more_ here than where I had been, so declining the Commander's position was a win-win for me."

"I see," Makarov reiterated, not quite sure how to reply. All of the Commanders she knew – admittedly few – were always willing to do their job. Makarov had never considered all the Griffin officers who might've turned down promotion. She herself was utterly devoted to strategy and tactics and couldn't imagine a life without them. Salmela seemed quite the opposite. "Well, thank you for your time, Lieutenant. Please contact me if you have any questions, and I'll let you know of any developments."

"Of course. Good luck, Makarov."


	30. StG44 Chapter 9

It was a long list.

StG mulled it over as she and the rest of Chrysanthemum stepped along the hallway, vigilant for any unexpected movement. The dolls they were escorting – those formerly under quarantine – were kept two abreast between Chrysanthemum and some of the dolls from the security team. StG tapped the trigger guard on her rifle restlessly, her eyes going from point to point in anxious expectancy of something that might never happen.

ASh-12.7 was in front of her, hefting her own rifle casually as they marched down the hallway. Kerr – Type 81, rather – had ordered the dolls to keep it as quiet as possible as they escorted the dolls from the containment room in the bowels of the installation all the way up to the IOP research facility where RPD was also being kept. There were eight or so of the dolls, all of them attacked by Gestalt. They had been cleared of risk by Schuhart and the IOP team, but when the dolls were called up for additional testing, Kerr ordered that they be escorted. "Just in case," she (Type 81) said. Chrysanthemum was to augment the security team, which was already stretched thin.

The list had been out for a couple days at this point, but StG couldn't get it off her Digimind. The dozens of dolls with stolen backups – some had been there when StG went to look, had been looking on stoically or laughing it off or crying – who would be going into combat in one way or another in the coming operation, who were dead for real if Sangvis nailed their mainframe. StG was lucky that her backups were in the Griffin cloud, not stored physically, since Hunter was such a special unit. Other dolls were more unfortunate. K11's guess had been right – Mosin-Nagant was on the list, as was AKS-74u, RMB-93, Type 63 – many more dolls that StG didn't even know. It stirred something in her regardless. She had never particularly cared for the dolls in S17, even "friends" like G43, but the list had changed it, as if plucking a string that StG didn't even know existed, but resonated with her in a way that was almost indescribable.

It was the finality. Once killed, none of the dolls would come back and take a pill to restore lost memories. None of them would know their friends or squadmates, know Kerr or Type 81, know the role they might've played in another doll's life, know the intimacy they had shared, know any vestige of the life they had lived just days ago. They would be reborn as a blank slate.

But StG had always been able to ignore that, because it was not a worry she had about herself or her squadmates in Hunter. Sure, now and then StG or FAMAS or Type 79 would have an accident and need to have an old backup spun up, but such moments were few and far between. Chrysanthemum was different. There had been a few near misses during the pursuit of Gestalt a few days ago, and in the battle with the Aegis, StG had come close to death again. So had a few other members of Chrysanthemum over her time with the, especially K11. _Especially_ K11, who seemed to have a nose for getting into the most dangerous situations and then escaping with just a little scorched skin. StG had only been annoyed at first, but a hint of worry had pushed its way into her mind whenever she saw CBJ-MS or K11 or Type 56-1 leaping into battle a little too hastily. She assured herself that it was just worry about the outcome, that it would make the mission harder, but it was something else.

This worry came back stronger when StG read the list of names. No one from Chrysanthemum was on it, but still – it was paranoia, plain and simple.

They passed into the atrium, where StG did her best to ignore the stares from dolls and humans alike. The security dolls up front, M1014 and PP-19-01, quickly cleared a path as they moved. Along with INSAS, the four of them made up the leading dolls while Chrysanthemum covered the rest of the sides and rear. Whispers from the quiet crowd around them were ignored as the group pushed on. StG glanced sideways at the dolls they were escorting. M99 and MT-9 led the group, shuffling along with mixed expressions of determination and trepidation. StG couldn't blame them, of course, she'd feel the exact same if she suspected her body had been corrupted by Sangvis nanomachines. Memories of RPD returned to her, remembered images of the doll pulling on the restraints and shouting as Schuhart took a sample of the coolant. She wondered what had become of the afflicted doll, if the IOP engineer had put her out of her misery, or simply kept her alive for further experimentation.

As alive as a doll like that could be considered.

They approached the elevator banks, and M1014, the one in charge of the security detail, turned around. "The elevators are a bit small for the whole group, so we'll split up. CBJ, take a couple of your team, ASh, and the last four there, and I'll take everyone else."

"Right. K11, Type 56-1, stick with me. Z-62 can go with StG," CBJ-MS ordered. The two groups split up and filed into the elevators, StG going in first while each of the other escorts took one of the dolls and stuck close to them. M1014 pushed the button for the IOP level, the same button Schuhart had pressed, and the elevator doors shut and the carriage started moving.

M99 suddenly reached up to adjust her hat, causing INSAS to flinch and swing her rifle about, pointing it at M99 for a split second before hurriedly turning it away. StG's gaze snapped over to look, but her self-restraint kept her rifle pointed down.

"What was that?" M1014 asked, turning slightly to look at INSAS.

"Er, nothing. I just got startled, is all."

The shotgun's eyes flickered down to look at M99. "Right. Well, let's just keep it quiet and have no sudden movements. It's just a minute ride, yeah?"

"Or just don't be so touchy," MT-9 muttered.

INSAS huffed. "Care to repeat that?"

"Sure, I said 'Just don't be so touchy.'" The doll narrowed her eyes as she said the words, affecting an explicitly sardonic tone. INSAS adjusted her grip on her rifle.

"Now listen here–"

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?" PP-19-01 said, looking over from where she was shadowing L85A1.

"That's pretty obvious," M21 snarked. "If you can't even figure _that _out, it's no wonder you're just security."

"Oh, will you all just cut it out?!"

They all turned to M99, who had put her hands on her hips authoritatively and was looking up to the others, exasperated.

"We're not about to turn into Sangvis murderbots, so quit being so jumpy. And antagonism isn't the way to go about this," she added, catching MT-9's eye. "Let's just proceed as we would normally."

The elevator came to a halt, allowing M1014 to regain control of the situation as the doors opened. "Right, let's go!"

M99 went with M1014 right behind her, then INSAS with M21, then Z-62 with MT-9, then PP-19-01 with L85A1, with StG bringing up the rear. M1014 held them there for a moment until the second elevator _ding_ed and the other group stepped out in much the same way.

"Just tell me!" One of them had latched on to ASh-12.7, pulling at the doll's outfit. StG identified her as M2 Browning. "Were they on the list?!"

"Get off me," the Russian replied. "Didn't we say that you can't touch us? Get off!"

M2 started to turn angry. "Screw you! Russians aren't worth a jar of piss, I'll tell you that…"

"Don't try to pull that card!"

"Behave!" M1014's tone brokered no argument, and the rest of the dolls fell silent as they slogged down the hallway. None of them were willing to go along, and it was only the steady push of dolls at their backs that kept the quarantined individuals moving. At least M99 seemed to need no encouragement, and StG wished that the other dolls were as confident as her. _It would take the hassle out of this whole thing,_ she thought.

Then she remembered why this was being done – to stop these dolls from going insane, or worse – and any annoyance she had with the assignment was replaced by a deep sense of…

Awareness.

Awareness that, as they marched by the rooms of IOP equipment, marched towards the hazard-yellow doors StG-44 had passed through once before, M99 and the seven other might be infected, and if they were, these might be their last days as intelligent, _Griffin_ dolls. It was easy to die in battle, noble, even, but there was nothing glorious about corruption of the variety RPD had suffered. It was cruel. And no less cruel was the way in which this virus – _fear_ of a virus, no less – was already turning dolls against each other.

They approached the doors, coming to a halt as M1014 stepped forward and punched the intercom. "It's M1014 with the quarantine dolls."

After a moment, the doors slid open, revealing one of the suited IOP scientists flanked by another security dolls, this one KS 23. _Out of the repair bay._ The doll wasn't smiling like she usually did, however, and StG could see why: A squad's worth of uniformed Griffin soldiers lined the walls of the room, wearing full gear and looking like they were ready for… well, StG preferred not to speculate.

"We'll take it from here," M1014 said, turning around to address Chrysanthemum. "This is as far as you all can go."

CBJ-MS raised a skeptical eyebrow. "... if you say so. You can handle this?"

"They're unarmed. We'll be fine."

The security team stepped inside, and at a gesture the quarantined dolls soon followed, albeit dragging their feet. Only M99 hesitated, looking instead to CBJ-MS. StG could tell that they were sharing something – not data, not over the doll's disabled Zener network, but through a mere stare – then M99 broke off and stepped forward, through the doorway and into the waiting grasp of the white-suited humans within.

M1014 put two fingers to her head in a gesture of recognition, which CBJ-MS ignored as she turned back to her team.

"That's it. Back to the dorm."

It wasn't until the elevator started moving that anyone spoke up. "Didn't that strike anyone as unusual?" said Z-62. StG surmised that it must've left quite an impact for the normally taciturn second-in-command to speak up about it.

Type 56-1 shrugged. "I don't like it either, but if there's a risk, then we shouldn't take any chances. We were doing the right thing.

"But what if they don't make it out?" asked K11. "I mean – I know they're probably clean or whatever, but I don't exactly trust IOP on this."

"And IOP doesn't trust you either," Type 56-1 quipped someone dejectedly. "What sort of authority are you…"

"It doesn't take a genius to know what's going on here! This is psychological warfare as much as it is physical… Gestalt is using our fear against us!"

_Rather insightful of you._

The elevator door opened. "Just drop it, okay?" CBJ-MS said. "You all know Schuhart, at least a little. Nobody from IOP is about to kill these dolls just out of fear. Now, we've got the rest of the afternoon off, so let's just go back to the dorm and relax."

"How much time until kickoff?" asked Z-62.

"Soon. A week. Though the way Kerr has us preparing, we could start the operation as early as tomorrow. Tonight, even."

"Guess I'm not getting any sleep," Type 56-1 bemoaned.

K11 busted into the dorm as obnoxiously as she did everything else, hurriedly taking off her shoes and setting her weapon down before CBJ-MS could so much as get a hand on her shoulder. The other dolls filed in after her while their team leader gave the demolitions expert a warning not to self-modify in her room tonight.

"I'll get something going on the stove, eh?" Type 56-1 made for the kitchen.

"_No!_ Oh, would you NOT eat for just ten minutes?" Turning away from K11, CBJ-MS descended upon her next victim. "I bet Kerr wonders where all the damn food goes, right? We don't have a SPAS-12 doll here, so there's only _one explanation_."

"Fine, fine, I get it…"

StG kept her jacket on, unwilling to take off any part of her uniform until she got to her closet. She'd always been extra careful with it, loathe to let so much as a speck of dust damage it, even when such things were inevitable in the context of battle. Leaving it out on a simple coat rack in Chrysanthemum's dorm was not at all acceptable in her eyes. In StG's shared room, she kept her items well away from any of K11's detritus.

As StG entered the room, she glanced over at her roommate's side. Doll parts were scattered everywhere – small packages of coolant, boxes of metal components, wires, a soldering station, worklight, stained worktable – the assorted debris of a madwoman. K11 was usually nice enough to do it alone, but a few times StG had walked in to her haphazardly soldering something into her arm, the skin peeled back and metal frame opened up. K11 usually disconnected her limb to work on it, sitting in the chair arm- or leg-less, poking and prodding for hours. One time she had asked StG to help her when she was working on her own torso, reaching something that K11 couldn't see herself – a rather unsavory thing, which was made all the more confusing by the fact that K11 was already a five-star in the IOP commercial ranking system, with one of the best bodies in the market. _Why would she need to modify?_ StG wondered. All in all it was a very confusing activity, but K11 was quite carefree about it, even eating or drinking while she worked.

The workstation was empty, though, and no light shone on the vintage Korean propaganda posters that K11 liked to put up. Her bed was as messy as always, but StG merely ignored it rather than curl a lip. Her side of the room was very neat and organized, sparse most of all. StG never collected much, keeping as much as she could inside her Digimind, where it could be accessed at a moment's notice. That said, she had always kept a few items close: a jar of the shrapnel that she had pulled out of her corpse back in S09, a memento of Agent; similarly, the badge from that uniform. There was a picture of her old unit too, Papasha and Skorpion, G43 and MP40. They had been split up after Kerr yanked StG-44 into S17. She picked the frame up from her desk and looked at it carefully. _M4A1 and that team…_ Well, if the latest news on the official Griffin net was true, M4 and the other dolls from the AR team were still kicking, give or take one or two of them. StG wondered if M4 remembered her.

Well, that was in the past. StG opened the closet door and started taking off the jacket, removing the aiguillette beforehand and carefully placing it on the shelf and the jacket on its hangar. Then she pulled off her boots and put them on the closet floor, after which she removed the cap and placed it on the desk. It was not often that StG undressed like this – she certainly did it less often when with Hunter – but she felt comfortable nonetheless. Admittedly, it was hard to be less informal than K11.

As StG closed the closet door, she thought back to when she had spoken to NTW-20 in her old dorm room, now over a month ago. Normally she would be doing a combat simulation now instead of staying in the dorm with the rest of Chrysanthemum – she had never thought of spending this much time _with_ a team, not with Hunter, not with her old squad in S09. She had even disliked CBJ-MS and K11 and Z-62 when she first joined, so what had made her change? What was different?

Maybe it was because they went out and fought more often. Yes, that was a big difference, that was probably it. StG turned away from her desk and made for the door.

The others had taken up residence on the couches and chairs. Z-62 had a blanket over herself and was nestled in one of the armchairs while K11 and Type 56-1 sat on the couch, sharing a big container of instant noodles. It was just the way StG thought it might look – but it felt different. It felt more like Hunter, like the odd silence of the common room when they were all together.

CBJ-MS looked up at StG's socked footsteps and smiled, patting the arm of the chair next to her own. "Why don't you have a seat, Sturmgewehr?"

Z-62 looked up, and the Swedish doll exchanged glances with her. _This feels off_. Not a little warily, StG crossed to an empty armchair and sat in it, folding her hands into her lap. Type 56-1 loudly swallowed the rest of her noodles and set the carton aside, her eyes flicking over to stare at StG. Z-62 pushed the blanket off her and leaned forward, the action winding up the tension that StG felt pulling at everyone in the room. The doll wet her lips and looked at CBJ once more before beginning. _This won't be good._

"Look, StG… you remember why you came to Chrysanthemum in the first place?"

"Yes," StG replied testily. Z-62 held her hands up.

"Well, not the… not that. I mean what enabled you to join our team."

"Ak 5 was on leave receiving work from IOP," continued Type 56-1. "Calibrations, a new etched weapon, stuff like that. But she's flying back right now."

StG felt her core drop into her stomach. Ak 5 returning could mean only one thing for her. "So I'll be out once she's on base."

"Correct," said CBJ-MS, finally entering the conversation. Then, after a pause: "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," StG replied automatically. "It was about time I got back, anyway."

She looked up to see everyone else looking down. Packing would be quick, at least, though that only reminded her what little she had here.

"Her plane is landing at the airfield early this afternoon, and the helicopter will fly her to the base in an hour or so."

_I should've just left for the sims after all._ What use was it trying to belong, when she was shuffled out anyway? Maybe this was the real punishment Kerr had intended when she assigned her to Chrysanthemum: loss. K11 heaved a sigh, looking the least energetic she ever had. Z-62 was as tight-lipped as ever, and CBJ-MS had a caring look on her face, her hand up and ready to reach out.

It seemed to not be worth it. StG felt the oppressive weight of it all come back down on her, a weight she didn't even realize was gone: the weight of being alone, of being the outcast, the loner. She hadn't been the weirdest one in Chrysanthemum, nor had any of its members treated her unfairly, nor had she been left out, even when she first joined. But it was all temporary in the end.

Sturmgewehr sighed and said nothing. There was nothing to be said at all, really, nothing that would mean anything. CBJ-MS seemed about to open her mouth when StG decided that she'd had enough of it and stood up – only for Type 56-1 to as well.

"It's been a pleasure," the Chinese doll said, holding out a gloved hand. StG stared at it for a second before taking it in her own, and they shook. Type 56-1's grip was quite strong, so StG returned it with one of equal strength.

"...likewise," she managed. Type 56-1 smiled. K11 was next, clapping StG on the arm and smiling wide despite the severity of the occasion.

"It's been fun, 44!"

_Maybe more for you than me._ StG nodded. Z-62 stood and offered a hand, which StG took in her own and shook.

"You fight well. I haven't read of many like you," the girl said, smiling in encouragement. StG returned the expression and nodded in silent acknowledgement.

"I'm glad to have served with you," was all StG could say.

CBJ-MS had to look up at StG thanks to her small stature. She had shed her coat and stood in front of StG in rather simple dress compared to the other doll's uniform. _She really is rather short_, StG thought. It was the only thing on her mind as CBJ-MS started speaking.

"To be frank, I hadn't expected to really end up liking you, even before you had joined us. But, well, here we are. It really was nice to have you. And… we won't have anyone quite the same."

_That's for certain_, StG thought somewhat bitterly, but before any more convictions about her worth went through her mind, CBJ-MS had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around StG, pulling her into a tight embrace. Without her coat on, StG could feel the smaller doll's warmth pressing up against her, the individual digits holding on in the small of her back, even the rise and fall of CBJ-MS's chest as she breathed. It seemed to last a moment to StG, who couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged – in S09, maybe – or even being this close to anyone physically.

It was very nice.

CBJ-MS broke away and patted her small hand against the blonde doll's shoulder reassuringly. "I know it was rather sudden. I would've kept you in longer if I could."

StG's mouth worked silently for a moment before she could get anything out of it. This was like nothing that had happened to her before. It was almost unfathomable, something that the doll had always counted herself out of. It was like a dream…

But that feeling was fading away. "It's alright," she offered. "I was expecting it."

"You can always come talk to us," Z-62 said.

"Yeah, about explosives!"

"Or whatever you want," Type 56-1 corrected, smiling. StG smiled back.

"Dankeschoën. I… well… I never expected this," she confessed. "Thank you."

"Would you like help packing?" CBJ-MS said.

"...no, I can handle it myself."

Once back in her room, StG took a moment to simply stand still. The picture of her squad in S09 seemed to call to her, as if offering that she might once again rejoin them after her dismissal. _Impossible._ They were in the past, as was now Chrysanthemum. Hunter had been her home for far too long now, insofar as the motley crew of dolls from over five different sectors could even be a home. That had been StG-44's lot in life ever since she had been plucked out of S09 by Kerr all that time ago. _The outcast._

She sighed, fetched her bag from the closet floor, and got to packing. It really wasn't much – it never had been – so it didn't take her long to fit it all in. Stepping back into the boots, slipping into the jacket, fastening the badges took but a few minutes. _Moving again._ Hardly the first time. Why couldn't she stop thinking about this? _I've got to be less reflective. Dwelling on past emotions is of no use. _

When StG stepped out, she saw that the other four were standing by the door, smiling. It was strange to see K11 smile anything but the insane grin, or Z-62 to do it at all, but there they were. StG stopped short of them as CBJ-MS reached for the door handle.

"..."

_What do I say?_

"...thank you all for everything that you've done. It's… it's more than I could've ever expected or asked for."

"It was our pleasure," said Z-62.

"I'll be talking to NTW-20 after this operation," CBJ-MS winked.

"Kill that Ringleader," K11 added.

"Good luck," Type 56-1 waved.

And StG left, smiling.


	31. The Speech

They filed into the big briefing room and quietly took their seats around the middle. SASS had never seen the auditorium so full before, with nearly every seat filled by a doll watching the front of the auditorium or talking to her neighbor or staring straight ahead as she looked at something in her Digimind. Even had their presence not been mandatory, SASS suspected that the attendance would be the same: nobody wished to miss what was about to happen.

Commander Kerr was to address the base.

SASS had not personally spoken to Kerr ever since she actually arrived in S17, and even that had been an exchange of few words. Type 81 really was the public face of the aged woman, a mild-mannered, uniformed servant who was somehow the one chosen to execute Kerr's will as commander.

That was a bit dramatic, SASS allowed, but she was nonetheless surprised that Kerr would appear in person and speak to the base.

"This anxiety is killing me!" Ingram was slouched in her seat, staring sullenly up at the podium. "Why can't we just get to the fight…"

RFB was of the same mind. "It's like one of those unskippable cutscenes in a game. Really boring, you know?"

From the row behind them, M60 leaned forward, placing her arms on the back of Ingram and SASS's chairs. She was one of the more senior dolls on base, so SASS was surprised when she spoke in agreement. "The Commander better not waste our time on this. We're getting awful close to C-Day and I'm not interested in speeches or whatever."

"Yeah, well, you're just going in with the cordon team," RFB replied. "We're on the damn escort mission."

"You sound unhappy," SASS commented.

"Yeah! What's that about? You don't want to kill as many Sangvis?"

RFB held her hands up to Ingram. "No, no…"

"Which sector are you covering?" Grizzly asked M60.

"Epsilon, we're directing the cordon. It shouldn't be too bad, unless you guys really end up stirring the nest."

"Well, who knows what Sangvis has stowed away down there."

"Just leave some for us, yeah?" M60 patted Ingram on the shoulder and turned back to her own echelon.

SASS glanced at Grizzly, who was sitting with her arms crossed, exchanging the occasional word with M590 as they watched and waited. Despite the multitude of conversations in the auditorium, there was a distinct sense of apprehension: what would the Commander say? It was in the same vein as RFB's excitement at a new videogame coming out, except tempered by the dark storm clouds of combat. _Operation Hammerhead_ was the codename chosen for the immense battle they were soon to embark on.

Conversations quieted as Type 81 peeked out from behind one of the doors, then stepped out and held it open. All talk ceased when the Commander stepped out. She had donned the long red overcoat that was part of the Griffin uniform and her hair was neatly arranged, in every way she looked the part of an officer. Every doll's face was turned up to the stage, watching Kerr approach the podium, waiting. SASS was close enough that she could pick out features on her face: the slight downturn on her mouth, her eyes moving back and forth around the auditorium, her eyebrows bending in just a little.

She paused, letting the silence swell, before she began.

"In just a few days, we will embark on one of the greatest operations that Griffin has ever planned. Many of you are surely apprehensive at this coming battle; I would not blame you. It is only natural. Some have lost friends, some worry for their friends, same worry for themselves. I know that it has not been easy. I know that some don't want to fight Sangvis again. Well, let me offer you this information: This operation is not being done for the good of a select group of individuals, or for money, or because we were ordered to by some higher power. It's being done because it has to be. It's being done to prevent anything more happening to the dolls here.

"We are setting out to fight the same enemy we've fought many times before. You know Sangvis. You know what they might do if we were to ever fail in our task of containment. Humans might die, dolls might die. Permanently. None of you have had any concept of real death until now. It is a horrible thing that ought to be prevented, whatever the cost. This is greater than any one of you. Dolls here have come from all parts of Griffin, from all sorts of backgrounds, but now you all share one bond: that of duty to your fellows. Look around you; know the faces of the dolls you sit beside. Know them well. For in this coming battle, you are all one and the same, chosen arbiters of every doll's will to see this Sangvis scourge gone from the sector and the neural backups back in our grasp. If you will not do it for money, do it out of duty to Griffin. If you will not do it out of duty, do it for your comrades. If you will not do it for them–"

Kerr halted. "Then do it for yourself.

"I won't delude you with false words: this will not be an easy task. But no task that has ever meant something in history has been anything but difficult. The adversity you will face is merely a sign of the significance of this engagement: that it is more than just bullets and grenades and spilt coolant and plasma, that it falls upon _your shoulders_ to save those who cannot save themselves. Those dolls who are dead, or have a chance of dying. The humans you were designed to protect. That is your duty, and I trust that every one of you will follow it until you perish, or are otherwise incapacitated.

"I am asking much of you, I know. But no more than you would ask of yourselves. I don't pretend to be a great person, or even a good one. I only do what I believe to be right. I expect the same from every one of you. There are many in the greater world that think little of your kind, of androids. They would say that you are puppets, that I am the only one with merit in this scenario. Some might write off your own accomplishments entirely. It is an old way of thought, but a common one. Those who believe in it lie to themselves. They lie when they say that you can accomplish nothing. They lie when they say that I am the most skilled here. Of all of the people in this base, it is you who are the most important. You who sacrifice yourselves in battle, risk everything, offer yourselves up to my command, and see every mission through to the end. I could not ask for a finer unit of soldiers. Even if history fails to make note of what we do here, even if Griffin downplays this operation, I and everyone present will remember what happened. As you go forth into battle, know that you are not seen as just a pawn or tool, but as my equal, in this battlefield or another.

"As we look forwards, toward the coming battle, never fail to think of what it _means_. Great figures in history spoke of trials and tests of courage. Let this be your trial. You will win not because Sangvis is weak, but because you are strong. Your weapons. Your training. But most of all, your bond with those that you fight alongside. In all my years in the military and as a commander, I find that the link with your other soldiers is the deciding factor in a great many engagements. You will fight with valour and courage not because of an order that I give but for the dolls to your left and right. I know that it can be hard to get along. None of us are exactly the same. But in this time, set your dislikes aside, for the enemy you are soon to face will merely use them to its advantage. That Ringleader, Gestalt, it has _nothing_ on the camaraderie you share as soldiers! Sangvis dolls _are_ just puppets, but you are _more. _Never forget that.

"Ultimately, this battle is part of something bigger. For years now, we have been waging this war of containment against Sangvis, sometimes at great cost. Thus, our task here is not just to win the battle – though that is of great importance – but to win the war. Only then will Sangvis no longer construct Gestalts to take away your friends. Only then will we all be released from this conflict. But that is the future. The operation is now. Now is the time to strike with what fury and hatred you may have. Destroy Sangvis now, so we might have an easier time of it later.

The Commander stopped speaking again, merely turning her head to watch the crowd. SASS felt the tension in everyone as they waited for her next words – even Ingram and RFB were watching carefully.

"This is the struggle. In this time of calamity, of emergency, none of us must hesitate to give every ounce of ourselves to the fight, for we know that salaries or physical comfort are nothing compared to the fight for _others_, be they doll or human. Know that even if you do not care for yourself, I do, as well as everyone who serves with you. If ever you find yourself unmotivated – _remember your comrades._ They are who this fight is for, dead or alive. Do it for them.

"I have no reason to doubt that you can do this. We will win. And I trust that my confidence is not misplaced. Thank you, and good luck."

Then she bowed and walked off the stage.


	32. Operation Hammerhead

64 Shiki of Howa manufacture raised a hand and paused to survey the land ahead. This entire valley was wooded – an advantage for the Griffin dolls, perhaps, but also something that made 64's core tingle with apprehension. Yew Team had disappeared in a forest, after all.

To the northwest was the suspected location of the Sangvis stronghold that Griffin was now encircling. Intel on this operation was minimal, no thanks to SF's healthy number of unaccounted-for SAM launchers watching the skies and their shiny new Ringleader which had so recently terrorized Griffin's base of operations. To her credit, 64 Shiki was determined to overcome the nagging sense of trepidation that she had felt ever since news of this "Gestalt" had been sent around to Area S17's T-doll battalion. Leaders had to be sure of themselves – and as leader of Arnica Team, it was her duty to see the operation though, and her echelon along with it.

For all her ability as a doll, however, 64 was not too confident of this offensive. S17's capabilities had been stretched thin since the raid, and conducting this operation while under full strength was a poor choice on Commander Kerr's part – at least, that was how 64 saw it.

But orders were orders.

"FNC!"

"Here," said the doll, not far from where 64 eyed the land ahead.

"We'll set up a central position along this edge here, with additional dummies pushed farther out in case Sangvis attempts to slip in between. See to it that 6P62 has a good spot for her dummies to fire from, QBU-88 as well. You'll stay and direct efforts in the center, PP-19 and I will roam as needed.

"Understood." The echelon XO hopped to it, and 64 could sense the directions being handed out over Zener.

64's own network buzzed with activity. "Arnica Team, this is Throne, over." Makarov's clipped tone came from within her head.

"Throne, this is Arnica Team, send, over."

"Report on your status, over."

"I've reached the phase line and have begun setting up positions along our section of the cordon, over," 64 replied, working her way back up the incline as she replied. _These trees are too close to see anything more than a few dozen meters away._

"Roger. See that you link up with Edelweiss and Dogwood teams if possible. Report on the logistics net when necessary. Out."

_Throne._ 64 Shiki was not entirely confident with Makarov at the helm of this operation, but Commander was probably around in the command center anyhow. _It is still odd to have a doll in command. _64 was an old hand at all this, nearly pre-Butterfly, but there was nothing natural about being commanded by a doll. But, the AR doll reasoned, Makarov was putting her trust in 64 the same way 64 put her trust in Makarov. It was the least she could do to have confidence. _For my own sake as well as hers._

Pings on the Zener net meant that the far-ranging dummies sent to Arnica's left and right had met up with similar probes from Dogwood and Edelweiss teams. The thinly stretched cordon was a necessary risk given the large area that Griffin hoped to contain. Every doll in S17 stretched fingertip to fingertip would barely cover a quarter of the perimeter of the cordon that Makarov had ordered to be established. Luckily, the teams would start advancing soon, closing the cordon like a noose around Gestalt's neck.

All in good time. 64 paused for a moment and observed through Zener as the rest of her echelon made ready to begin the advance. She had been saddled with 6P62 in place of SAR-21, who had been compromised after the Sangvis raid. The damage to the databanks had been so significant, in fact, that it was difficult to make _new _backups, thus putting too many dolls on rather uncertain footing. 64 was lucky to have dodged such a fate, but SAR-21's loss had meant temporarily making FNC her second-in-command and learning all about 6P62's rather unique place in an echelon.

"Everyone's ready," FNC reported, confirming what 64 already knew. _She's a good XO, just not trained for it._ "We made contact with skirmish elements of Edelweiss and Dogwood, over."

"Roger. Get in position, the advance is commencing soon."

Now they would wait for word from Makarov and hope that Sangvis wasn't coming to them. Arnica was a capable team, no doubt, but without Fairy support they would have trouble with defensive actions. Regardless, she was ready to do whatever was ordered of her. Kerr's speech a few days ago had roused most of the dolls on base who might've previously been reluctant to contribute for one reason or another, which was good for morale but bad for the echelon leaders like 64 Shiki who now had to handle overzealous dolls hungering for a taste of the revenge the Commander had mentioned.

64 crossed the wooded slope to where PP-19 was. The doll was surveying the terrain ahead the same way 64 had, her face betraying only a hint of what was surely careful consideration going on in her Digimind.

"PP-19, once we get underway with the assault, I'd like you to keep an eye on the area around QBU and 6P62. If Sangvis units get in too close without them noticing, it's on us to keep them safe."

"Understood. I hope we aren't going to be advancing too fast, it'll be a pain to have them constantly changing positions."

_I know. _"I trust that won't be necessary."

"This is Throne to all echelons and combat teams this net: the assault is commencing _now_. I repeat, the assault is commencing now. Throne out."

64 Shiki took a deep breath, taking in the quiet of the forest for the last time. "Arnica, it's time. Move out."

The foliage rustled as everyone broke cover and started moving forward. FNC, 64 Shiki and PP-19 took the lead, scanning for threats while 6P62 and QBU-88 followed behind. With their combination of range, mobility, and weapons capable of taking on armor, 64 was confident that they could wipe most any Sangvis element they encountered. That would not be the case if Gestalt took to the field, however. 64 hoped that wouldn't happen, that the special operations echelon being deployed from the southern end of the valley would deal with the Ringleader first.

They were moving at a brisk pace, no thanks to the necessity of covering potentially dozens of square miles of ground. 64 Shiki pushed out an order to slow over Zener so they didn't leave Edelweiss and Dogwood – slower sniper echelons – behind. From far ahead, the muted _whump-whump_ of explosions reached the ears of everyone in the echelon – the initial hurricane bombardment that the human battalion's mortar teams were executing. Any Sangvis doll lingering in the bombardment area would likely be torn to pieces if not filled with shrapnel, lessening the strain on the Griffin combat forces. 64 Shiki only hoped it worked.

"Contact front, one hundred meters, Vespids!" FNC called out.

"Contact left of the boulder, Rippers," PP-19 intoned.

"Slow and engage," 64 Shiki ordered. She raised her own rifle and squeezed off a shot at the horde of grey-white Sangvis dolls weaving between the trees like ants, watching with satisfaction as the lead doll toppled. The _crack_ and _taktaktaktak_ of the weapons around her grew in intensity and frequency until 64 dampened her sound and fought on in blessed peace, only feeling the kick of her battle rifle against her shoulder and the whisper of Zener as it fed her combat information.

The Sangvis dolls feel like leaves, but there were always more yet to come, more to be felled. QBU and 6P62 had taken up position in the rear, sending shots downrange to nail the bigger Guard units before they could get their shields up. _No Dragoons yet_, 64 thought, thankful that the mounted skirmishers weren't joining the battle this time. _They're such a pain._

"Clear!" FNC reported.

"Clear," PP-19 echoed as 64 pulled out her empty magazine and stowed it away, slotting a new one into her gun. Their sector of the cordon was quiet again, but 64 knew that Sangvis would come again.

"This is Arnica Team to Throne, over."

"Throne to Arnica Team, send, over."

"Engaged and destroyed one enemy unit, composition Vespids and Rippers, estimated 50 downed, no casualties, over."

"Roger. Proceed with the advance until grid 18067 15655, at which point you are to hold until further instructions, over."

"Wilco. Arnica out."

Those grid coordinates weren't too close. 64 gave the order to resume moving and began considering their situation in the meantime. That engagement had eaten up about what was expected of their ammunition – Lieutenant Salmela had projected that each echelon would be able to engage about five times until they ran out of ammunition, after which they would need to pause and get resupplied. This amount of ammunition they packed with them was light enough that they could still move effectively, but not so little as to hinder their combat ability.

What worried 64 Shiki a great deal more was the issue of repairs. If anyone in the echelon was damaged beyond what their limited self-repair technology could fix, there was no way to get them out of the battle safely. Past battles often had designated points where medevac helicopters could land and take damaged dolls back to the base, maybe even return them to battle after repairs, but in the heavily wooded valley that Operation Hammerhead was taking place, such a feature was a luxury, if not nonexistent.

Another round of explosions was heard, this time a bit farther away. _One of the other echelons calling in fire support._ All of the mortar teams the Commander had at her fingertips were deployed on this operation, bolstering the forces already in the field. _She really did go all out,_ 64 Shiki mused. Counting the rearline echelons, well over twenty echelons of dolls had been sent out on this operation, though only about twenty of them were actually on the cordon with the rest either standing by as reserves or deployed alongside Hunter Squadron on their hunt for Gestalt. As the noose tightened, the pressure on both Sangvis and Griffin would increase, and 64 anticipated that Arnica would be one of the echelons kept on the frontline while less capable teams like Dogwood retreated.

They were still a few hundred meters out from the grid coordinates Makarov had given when PP-19 called out another contact. "Front, seventy-five meters, Jägers and Vespids!"

"Halt, take cover!"

_I cannot afford to lose them to sniper fire._ 64 tapped Zener again, gave orders for FNC, PP-19, and 6P62 to draw the Jägers' attention. QBU-88 and herself would take them out. Even through the trees and bushes, 64 could pick out the Sangvis snipers and tagged them on the squad network for QBU-88's benefit. With careful precision, they began picking off the Sangvis as quickly as they could.

"Dummy down," PP-19 said. 64 cursed herself for not taking out the enemy snipers sooner. Her rifle was good, but ultimately a poor choice for sniping enemies that were taking cover behind tree trunks and boulders. QBU-88 was having more luck, but the onslaught of enemies was making it tough to do anything else but shoot back and hope that there were less then there were before.

"Intensify fire! Keep them suppressed!"

"Arnica, this is Throne, over."

_Not again, not now. _

"Throne, this is Arnica. Send, over."

"We are detecting two large Sangvis forces making a breakout attempt. One of these forces is heading in your direction, ETA seven minutes. An advantageous position has been located one hundred meters to your north-northwest. Your orders are to push for this location and set up a defensive position. Dogwood and Edelweiss teams will move to support you, over."

_That can't be right._ Sangvis must've been able to tell – known that their sector of the cordon lacked fairies, lacked a proper elite echelon – 64 Shiki was not happy.

"Roger. We are currently engaging a Sangvis sniper unit but resistance is tough. Will attempt to comply, over."

"There will be no attempt. _Get it done_. Throne out."

_She sounds a little stressed, _64 thought, but figured that Makarov was right. If they failed in their defense, the entire operation could fall apart. What little consolation there was lay in the fact that Edelweiss and Dogwood would be backing them up.

"Arnica, new orders: we're to push forward to a position 100 meters north-northwest of my position and then take a defensive posture to fight off an incoming Sangvis breakthrough attempt. We'll break this Sangvis unit here and push through!"

_Easier said than done_. 64 sent out the necessary orders on Zener and started to move, aggressively pushing the Sangvis positions until they were on top of the Jägers and 64 could practically hear the marching of the next wave. PP-19 finished off the last fireteam of Sangvis snipers with a few shots as the forest became quiet again. _Dogwood is still engaged_. The _crack_ of rifles to their right meant that the sniper echelon must be stuck on Sangvis the same way Arnica had been.

It was just a minute up to the position Grizzly indicated, but even that was too much time lost for 64. "Everyone, in position! Dogwood and Edelweiss are enforcing us from the sides, so don't worry about the flank!"

"Let's hope WA2000 is as good a sniper as she claims to be," QBU-88 said scornfully. "I'm blaming it on her if this defense fails."

"Now's not the time," 64 reprimanded as she adjusted the sights on her rifle. The forest was thinner here, and she'd be able to shoot at the Sangvis from farther away. _We've got the high ground here, and they're coming to us._ 64 assured herself that this would be a victory. _My fears are for naught._

And yet, she felt the ever-present doubt in the back of her Digimind.

"In position," said 6P62.

"Picking up Sangvis signals on the periphery. It's an assault all right, maybe a couple hundred headed our way," PP-19 said.

_That you can see._ Still, what was Sangvis playing it, splitting their breakout attempt into two different forces? One large force would have a much better chance at breaking through, almost guaranteed…

Gift horses, 64 told herself. The doll shifted position so she could get a better view of where the Sangvis force was approaching from, kneeling down and raising her rifle in readiness. _There_, the column snaking through the trees and boulders, Sangvis dolls packed shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see, and then some. Unlike the last few groups, this assault force was better put together, with Guards leading from the front, Rippers sticking close to Jägers as escorts, and machine gun-toting Strikers, with Scouts hovering on the flanks and in the vanguard.

"PP-19, I want you and FNC up there to break their line. We'll support from behind. If necessary, we'll pull back under sniper cover and call in mortar fire."

_A few hundred dolls. This won't be too bad._

Far to their left, a rifle _crack_ed and one of the leading Guards stopped in its tracks and fell onto the unit to its left, which had also gone inert as the same bullet pierced its cranium. The collapse of the two dolls caused a brief halt amongst the Sangvis as the dolls behind the fallen awkwardly paused, stepped over the bodies, and kept going. _WA knows her stuff better than QBU_, 64 mused before she gave the order to open fire.

The forest erupted with a cacophony of fire as everyone let loose downrange. If they weren't taken down by precise shots they were overpowered by the sheer volume of bullets that filled the spaces Sangvis was attempting to get through. They were bottlenecked for the moment, but 64 didn't doubt for a moment that the more agile dolls wouldn't find a way around, and then the defense wouldn't be so easy.

"I see Brutes coming over the rocks!"

_Damnit_. That _really_ wasn't something 64 wanted to deal with. "Throw a grenade, make ready to fall back!" They couldn't take on the Brutes in close quarters, so shooting as they retreated to keep their distance was the best bet.

PP-19's frag grenade blew just in front of the massive boulder that the Brutes had swarmed over, throwing several into the air and knocking more to the ground. Some still made it further until 6P62 cut them down, but the ones that were still up by then set upon the three frontline dolls with unmatched ferocity. 64 sensed one behind her and spun just in time to block its knife with her rifle, landing a kick to its stomach that sent it staggering back far enough away for 64 to put her rifle to her shoulder and a round through the Sangvis' head.

More of them came, so 64 fired a few more well-placed shots before she turned and made for where the others were retreating to. The incline put the advancing Brutes at a disadvantage, but they still moved at least just as fast as 64 and were not at all dissuaded by the few rounds she threw down at her pursuers. Ahead, FNC and PP-19 were dealing with the same thing, barely escaping the knived grasp of the Sangvis attackers. 64 could only hope that the more fragile Edelweiss and Dogwood had not been taken apart by the attackers.

"Черт Сангвис," PP-19 cursed as she rolled a Brute corpse off her. "It gets worse every time…"

"Stay focused."

"Their main force is coming up now," QBU-88 said over Zener.

"Engage, delay them as much as we can." 64 Shiki turned her attention from the twitching Brute corpses in front of her to the horde of Sangvis making their way towards Arnica's position. Distant rifle fire – _the other two teams are still in play._ That boosted her confidence a bit. "Once we repel this, we'll push forward and get back on the line with Dogwood and Edelweiss. _Makarov better have orders by then._

They would be doubly low on ammunition following the end of this engagement. 64 hoped that there would be a chance to resupply soon, since pushing further into heavily defending Sangvis territory wasn't something she wanted to do with less than half the ammunition supply they'd been deployed with.

"They're in range," 64 observed. "Fire at will! Advance when possible!"

QBU-88 had the first shot this time, straight through the head of one of the Vespids. Everyone else followed soon after, PP-19 and FNC taking up positions that were concealed by rocks and bushes so they might better surprise Sangvis as the enemy drew closer. _Stay calm. _Panicking was not an option. They would push back this force and continue on. 64 knelt and worked on breaking up the nearest formation of SF foot soldiers, sending them into disarray and making it easier for QBU to pick them off.

_They're split up. Better push forward while we have this chance._ "Go, go! FORWARD!"

Even over Zener, 64 could make the intensity of her orders known. Behind her, QBU and 6P62 picked themselves up and moved forward while PP-19 and FNC broke cover and started forward, firing as they went. 64 stood and rushed forward to join them, rifle raised.

So the two forces clashed. Like a wave crashing upon a rocky shore, Sangvis swelled in front of Arnica, and Arnica met it with weapons blazing. For a while, there was no movement, but slowly, steadily, 64 could discern a widening gap between Arnica's positions and the Sangvis frontline. "Keep it up!"

_Just a little more. We can do this._ They were now at their original defensive lines, and with Sangvis being pushed back, they could now move forward with tightening the cordon, so long as Edelweiss and Dogwood were still fighting. _Hopefully it wasn't as intense for them._

The familiar pinch in the neck was a reminder that 64 had to pay attention. _Good leaders pay attention._ Losing any dummies was hardly something that should be happening, no matter what. It was unprofessional. 64 stowed another empty mag, inserted another full one. They were really reaching the bottom of the barrel now, she realized. A resupply would be necessary if the Sangvis push continued for much longer.

"Grenade out!" PP-19 lobbed another hand grenade in Sangvis's direction, landing it right in the midst of a pack of Scouts. The spindly drones hardly had the presence of mind to move out of the blast zone and 64 caught the horrifically satisfying sight of one of the Scouts flung forward to impale a Ripper with its long, pointed legs.

"Nice job!"

"64! Sangvis is falling back! They're retreating, we've won!"

The doll couldn't believe it. What FNC said was true: Sangvis was still shooting, that was true, but now they were actively moving away from the Griffin team. _Still, Sangvis never breaks off like that…_

64 Shiki only heard a very sharp _crack_ when the mortar round impacted, the instantaneous result of the concussion wave overloading her audio sensors. She was picked up by the explosion and flung backwards in a cloud of dirt, shrapnel, and spent casings until a boulder stopped her flight and she fell to the ground. Oddly enough, 64 felt no pain, just a dullness in her arms and legs. She attempted a soft reboot to attempt to clear the sensation, but it didn't work. Next, she tried to roll over and stand up, but found that she couldn't; one of her legs had been yanked off by the explosion. She knew this because she could rise up on her elbows just enough to see that she had no feet. 64 turned her head and found her rifle, but when she tried to sit up and reach for it she found that she couldn't, since the cord through which most of her functions got commands had been severed when she was flung against the boulder.

All 64 Shiki could do was watch as the Sangvis mortar fire rained down explosion after explosion on Arnica's position. Everyone's voice jockeyed for a spot in her mind, Makarov most of all, commanding that 64 report in. _They got us. _64 rolled her head to the side to see FNC running through the Sangvis fire to 64's side, kneeling down.

"What do we do?!"

Such a simple question, but over Zener it felt like so much more. 64 struggled for a response and realized that she must've been even more damaged than she thought. _Something's wrong with my Digimind. Not operational. _"Fall back… re-establish communications with Makarov and report the situation," 64 thought. FNC furrowed her brow.

"You mean–"

"I'm not… fit to command. You're in charge. You don't have a command module, but… you just need to stop Sangvis from getting through. And salvage my recorder..."

"Yes, but–"

"My Digimind was damaged in the explosion. It'll shut down, and soon. Besides, I'm not in a state ready for combat anymore."

FNC looked lost, which 64 didn't blame her for. _You can't afford to be, though._ This defensive couldn't fail. 64 felt her mind deteriorating even more, and in her final moments of thought, she wished that no one thought ill of her for this failure.


	33. SuperSASS Chapter 11

_This is it._

_I'll make you proud, senpai._

SASS gazed down at the knife in her hands. It had been so long ago, really, that NTW handed it to her, or so it felt. _How far we've come._ SASS ran a thumb along the flat of the blade absentmindedly. Once she thought about it, those memories of being lost during her first battle in S17 were almost alien. How could she have been like that? Everything from that time seemed so small, before this current battle. Before Gestalt. SASS thought of M1919A4. _I'm sorry that you couldn't be around for this battle. I know you liked a good fight._

M1919A4 might not be around for anything, at least not as the doll that SuperSASS knew. Nor would many other dolls if Operation Hammerhead was to fail. SASS, at least, was certain that no such thing would happen. It could not be allowed to happen. That much was for certain. It was like the Commander had said: for your comrades, dead or alive.

_I cannot dwell on this._ SASS sheathed her knife and placed it back on her belt, looking around the cabin as she did. Everyone else was as quiet as Ingram, likely thinking the same thing as SASS. Grizzly simply stared at the floor, waiting for the helicopter to touch down, while M590 traced a path around the stock of her gun with a finger. Ingram was inspecting her knife too, while RFB was content to stare past SASS and out the window.

M590 broke the silence. "This is it. We're landing."

The helicopter slowed and then rocked as it landed. Grizzly stood and pulled the door open, staring out of the helicopter for a moment before she jumped down.

"Out, let's go!"

_Magazines. Spare scope. Flashlight. Knife. Radio. _SuperSASS patted her pockets once again to make sure that everything she needed was there with her. _Not that I'd be able to run back and get it. _The helicopter lifted into the air and tilted forward, returning to the base. Now they were alone in the forest with nothing but a near-impossible task ahead of them. SASS slung her rifle over her shoulder as Grizzly Team started to move and its leader spoke.

"Right, just to be clear – we're pushing forward to link up with Rose and Chrysanthemum teams, then proceeding towards the base once we get the all-clear from command. We'll move fast, no chatter. Let's get it done."

Grizzly could not be any more obviously nervous. SASS stayed close behind the others as they made their way through the forest. This operation had put everyone on edge ever since Grizzly returned from the briefing with what their task would be: clearing the way for Hunter Squadron's attack on Gestalt. Then SASS questioned why it was _Grizzly_ Team of all of them that had been selected, but now she recognized why. _Ingram's happy, at least. _Her teammate was hotly anticipating this battle.

Another helicopter flew overhead, this one headed towards the battle. _A resupply chopper. _The battle in the valley had already been raging for at least an hour, Sangvis forces throwing themselves against the Griffin cordon in hopes of finding a section that would yield and grant them escape. No such weakness had yet been found, thankfully, but Grizzly had told the squad what was being said over the radio about some of the harder pressed echelons. SASS hoped none of the dolls she knew were among the dead or wounded.

"Hold here," Grizzly ordered, and the entire echelon stopped. "I see Sangvis ahead. Scouts, just a patrol."

SASS raised her rifle and peered down the scope, spying the Sangvis bots in a clearing less than a hundred meters away.

"What're they doing here? I thought this sector's been cleared," said M590.

"No clue. SASS, RFB, move up and pick your targets. We'll clear them out and move on."

"Roger," SASS said, quickly stepping past Grizzly and setting up near a cluster of trees. Her dummies spread out and took positions in a rough arc while RFB got ready to shoot. "I'll get the right five, you take the left."

"Got it," the other doll said.

SASS paused a moment, then squeezed the trigger. A series of hammered beats accompanied the scouts dropping to the ground with a neat hole through each of their cores. RFB cleaned up the remaining few with bursts while SASS stood and stepped into the clearing.

"Good job," said Grizzly. "Clean shots. Let's move on."

"Grizzly, we can't just ignore them," M590 said as they trotted through the forest. "Chrysanthemum wouldn't just miss a unit of Sangvis. They shouldn't have been there at all."

"It's not my concern. We'll mention it to CBJ when we link up."

SASS had not gotten a chance to speak to NTW-20 before this mission started, but she supposed that it was probably for the better. They had already drifted apart since the concert, since the raid, since – well, SASS had felt distant from _everyone_ since she had cleaned up the corpses in Doll Services. That had been a uniquely sobering experience, one that SASS resolved to prevent ever happening again. Somehow, SASS knew that NTW-20 would not share the same sentiment. The pink-haired doll was kind enough to her, but deep down they were different in more than just the caliber of their weapon. _Sorry, senpai. Maybe we're just not cut from the same cloth._

Be that as it may, SASS had certainly improved on her skills since she first spoke to NTW-20. No longer did she lack confidence with any of her shots or shy away from an encounter with Sangvis. SASS found it satisfying whenever she caught Grizzly looking at her approvingly or Ingram offered her a celebratory fist bump after a particularly successful battle or combat simulation. To her, it was a mark of progress – though sometimes SASS wondered if it was the good kind.

At least it was a nice day, if a bit cloudy. The snow had melted a bit before refreezing, so everyone was careful as they stepped, but the daytime mission meant that SASS did not need to make use of laser sights or a night-vision scope as she fought. The last night battle – the clearing out of the Sangvis-controlled hangar – had left a bad taste in SASS's mouth, and she hoped that there would be no more instances of fighting at night. It was tough and stressful and most of all fear-inducing. But Gestalt – the source of such fear – would be gone by the end of this operation.

_Focus_.

"There's Chrysanthemum now," M590 announced. "Look sharp, everyone."

SASS spied the other Griffin dolls standing in the glade ahead, white clouds puffing from their mouths. Welrod MkII had taken to the field with Rose Team, the sniper echelon, and now she stood with CBJ-MS as she watched Grizzly step out of the forest. It had been a long time – since the defensive several months ago, in fact – that SASS could remember working directly with more than one echelon. Grizzly was usually deployed independently or in tandem, so to be supporting two echelons as they blazed a path for a third was outside of her usual scope. It didn't help that Chrysanthemum and Rose were two of the best combat teams in S17, the sort of dolls Grizzly didn't usually work with.

"Welcome to the party," Welrod said as Grizzly approached. SASS hung back with M590 and listened to the conversation. "Did you run, or walk?"

SASS saw Grizzly raise her hands. "Don't blame me, we had to take out a Sangvis patrol on the way. I guess you guys missed one, huh?"

Welrod and CBJ-MS exchanged a glance. "We thought we cleared the area," said CBJ. "Something must've slipped by, then. Else Sangvis has a trick up its sleeve I'd rather not think about."

"Let's not dwell on it. The clock's ticking, we've got to move out now," Welrod said. "Sangvis won't wait for us."

Both the other echelons jumped to it, gathering around their leaders from where they had been waiting around the clearing. SASS felt a momentary buzz inside her head as Welrod linked everyone on Grizzly Team into the shared Zener network.

"Since we've started closing the cordon, the potential location of the Sangvis stronghold has been narrowed down to this area. We'll push forward with fire support from Cedar 4-8, adjusting our heading if necessary. The moment we get a fix on the location, that's our priority." Welrod looked around at each of the dolls. "Hunter is waiting for our word. We are not to engage Gestalt before they get here unless it is absolutely necessary."

"How much resistance do we expect on the way?" Grizzly asked.

"Anything from a couple mid-sized echelons to half the force they've got here. Word from the cordon is that Sangvis is still pressing hard since their last attempt. We can count on them to distract some of the force, but once Sangvis recognizes what they're doing the pressure will be on us."

Welrod paused as her words sank in. _Surely this is a job for a bigger force, _SASS thought.

"Chrysanthemum and Grizzly will take the lead here, with Rose providing sniper cover from the flanks. Cedar 4-8 is assigned to us, so we shouldn't be at a loss for fire support. Keep it tight and we'll punch right through Sangvis."

"Easier said than done," M590 muttered to SASS.

"Alright, let's move out!"

Chrysanthemum did indeed move fast. A rumble came from far off – another mortar strike along the cordon, SASS presumed – followed by the rapid _tatatatat _of machine gun fire. The edge of the cordon wasn't far off from their current position, she knew, and SASS hoped that whatever echelon was manning that section was strong enough to hold it. Many dolls had been committed to the cordon, but not all of them were exactly combat ready. _Like me during that defensive. _The thought was oddly amusing.

The crunch of snow stopped as Welrod ordered a halt. Even though she was part of the sniper echelon, she had chosen to take point along with CBJ-MS. The Zener command essentially froze everyone in their tracks as they waited for her orders.

"Contact front, fifty meters. Guards and Vespids. Rose, move up. Grizzly and Chrysanthemum, form a skirmish line."

The two teams spread out and made ready to attack. The Sangvis dolls seemed to have taken notice of the Griffin troops in the forest and were forming up with the Guards in front.

"Attack!"

Ten _cracks_ resounded through the snowy forest as the sniper team let loose, followed by the racking of bolts as Lee-Enfield and Kar98K chambered another round. Welrod was the first doll to come out of the forest, pistol raised as she fired off rounds at the Sangvis. RFB and Type 56-1 were next, firing quicker and aiming for the unprotected Vespids on the flanks, while the rest of the skirmishers emerged and opened fire on the front. To their credit, Sangvis was quick on the uptake, plugging holes with more Guard shields and returning fire to keep the Griffin dolls suppressed.

Grizzly's shot _pinged _off a Sangvis shield. SASS adjusted her aim and squeezed the trigger, her bullet piercing the Guard's head and knocking it back onto the dolls behind it. That was the opening the dolls up front needed as Type 56-1 launched a grenade into the gap that further spread Sangvis and allowed everyone else to flood in. From there on out the battle was decided, with the remaining Sangvis dolls cut up by sniper fire and the Griffin teams up close.

"Good job," Grizzly remarked to SASS as they grouped back together.

SASS could only manage a muted "thanks" in reply. All she could really think of is what would happen if they ended up needing to fight Gestalt. It was different now than it had been last time – it was daytime, they had more dolls, mortar support, two elite teams instead of Carnation – so maybe they could handle the Ringleader. But SASS was more scared and depressed by the thought than anything else. She trusted NTW-20, sure, and Hunter was experienced with Ringleaders, but Gestalt wasn't like anything they had faced before. Even the Ringleaders that Griffin's special operations teams fought weren't at all similar to Gestalt – at least, based on the little information that wasn't classified or otherwise restricted.

"Hey," said RFB. "You ever wonder why this part of Europe gets so messed up all the time?"

M590 shrugged. "I just work here, RFB."

"A better question would be 'why are we always chosen for the worst missions?'" said Grizzly.

"Hey now, that's not a good example to set as echelon leader."

"Bite me."

"Eheheh…"

Welrod's voice came with sudden clarity over Zener. "Command has a fix on the Sangvis stronghold. It looks like they're operating out of an old factory turned into a command post one and a half klicks north-by-east of our current position. It's the source of most, if not all the Sangvis units on the field. We'll clear out the surrounding area and make a path for Hunter."

"Welrod, I'm wondering about this plan," Grizzly said, on the squad net so everyone could hear. "I'm starting to think maybe we're not capable–"

"Frankly, ladies, I'm not hearing the aggressiveness I'd like." Welrod's voice cut over Grizzly's thanks to its higher priority on the net. "We have the advantage of surprise, not to mention that Sangvis is preoccupied with the cordon. As long as we make no mistakes, it'll go fine."

Her tone implied that there would be no further argument. Grizzly gave M590 a look of incredulity before she turned and continued walking. The three teams were lined in a column as they moved through the forest, with Chrysanthemum up front, Rose at the back, and Grizzly in the middle. SASS felt unnaturally paranoid in the forest, all too vividly remembering the nighttime escape from Gestalt. Maybe Gestalt wasn't even in the stronghold. The mere thought gripped SASS with fear. _Don't let the fear take over._ Yes, that seemed like something NTW-20 would say as advice. _Not that it really matters._

They had been thoroughly briefed on what to do should they ever make contact with Gestalt: avoid physical contact at all costs and break away from the engagement if possible. Of course, the latter wasn't possible for this excursion, since they had to keep Gestalt occupied until Hunter arrived. The matter of contact, though – well, if any of them so much as laid a finger on Gestalt (or vice versa), they would be considered a security risk and quarantined. Their fate would then be completely up in their air, and SASS did not particularly relish the thought of being permanently deactivated or experimented upon by IOP.

The group slowed as they mounted a small swell in the forest floor. Upon reaching the top, Welrod called another halt as she stood and surveyed the land in front of them.

"How can she see?" SASS voiced aloud.

"Probably special equipment that command dolls get," M590 speculated. "That, or some sort of satellite uplink courtesy of command. We can't be far from the Sangvis command post now, she's probably looking for signs of it or its defenders."

"And?"

Welrod answered for her. "Looks like a battalion's worth of Sangvis 750 meters ahead. Scattered, too, in individual squads. Snipers, Guards, Vespids, and heavy machine gun units. It looks like the hurricane bombardment from earlier hit pretty close to here, but it didn't do enough damage for us to get through on our own."

"So what's the play?" asked Grizzly.

The command doll paused a moment, considering her options. "We'll get in closer, choose a spot to break through, then call in a fire mission from the mortar unit. Then we break their line, radio for Hunter, and hold position as long as necessary."

"Permission to take point?" CBJ-MS asked.

"Granted. We'll move the same way as last time. Let's go."

They made their way through the underbrush with quiet efficiency. Unlike some of the less experienced teams that SASS had worked with in the past, Chrysanthemum and Rose moved with the practiced professionalism that SASS had noticed with the likes of Thompson and NTW. With a steady hand, CBJ-MS beckoned silent orders for her team to move up, just as Grizzly gestured for SASS and the others to do the same. Chrysanthemum treated each other the same way Grizzly and M590 did – there was that unspoken bond between them that SASS and RFB and Ingram didn't have, that they could tell each other more with a raised eyebrow than they might with a paragraph of words. They got along safely regardless, working their way through the forest until they could finally see the Sangvis building through the trees.

It was a sprawling two-story structure, deceptively low and quite featureless. Only large metal service doors and the high-up row of windows sunk into the concrete allowed access, though a large chunk of the right wing of the building was missing, scooped out by an unseen hand. The main door was at the back of the U-shaped front of the building. The courtyard, a once-cultivated garden for the benefit of visitors and employees, was now a ruined, cratered field of stone and overgrown shrubbery. The forest had grown closer to the factory where once it was trimmed, but there was still a perimeter of flat land without tree cover around the building.

It was in that zone that Sangvis stood. Scores upon scores of SF androids had formed a defensive line around the building, simply standing and waiting for the Griffin attack. If they had noticed the Griffin dolls lurking in the forest, they didn't seem to care, remaining at their posts like sentinels. SASS followed Grizzly and M590 as they went up to Welrod, who had ordered the Griffin dolls to stay concealed for the moment.

Welrod had produced a pair of field glasses and was busy observing the structure when Grizzly knelt down by her. SASS raised her rifle and used the scope to observe, noting the short-range mortars in the courtyard.

"Looks like they've got a helipad on the roof," Grizzly said to SASS and M590. "Must've been how the factory resupplied, back when it was still active. I bet it's where all of those Sangvis carriers are coming from."

"And why didn't we find this earlier?" M590 asked irritably.

"SF wiped a lot of data during Butterfly, it's hard to determine these things. It's not like their rank-and-file dolls know anything, and Ringleaders self-destruct most of the time." Grizzly nudged SASS on the arm. "See that concentration of dolls on the left? Maybe that part of the wall's weak and Sangvis wants it protected."

"We didn't bring any explosives," SASS said.

Grizzly glanced over at K11. "_We_ may not have, but she sure did."

"It's not that big of a building," said M590. She was busy with a handful of shells, refilling her shotgun's tube and the extra shells on the stock. "We could clear it pretty quick, and I'd rather be inside it than outside fighting Sangvis. I don't think Welrod's going to have us blasting our way in, though."

"That's assuming Gestalt isn't in there waiting." Grizzly had pulled her own pair of binoculars out to mimic Welrod. "There's probably more below the ground than above. We can't access pre-Butterfly schematics, so we don't know the original dimensions, and we also don't know if Sangvis have done their own construction in the meantime."

She handed the binoculars to M590, who performed her own survey of the factory.

"Why not just hold position in the woods?" SASS suggested. "Draw Sangvis to us."

"Some of us will. But the others do better up close."

_Ingram. Chrysanthemum. _SASS sighed.

Welrod spoke suddenly. "Grizzly, what do you reckon?"

"Sangvis HOC battery up in that hole, I think. We've gotten reports of heavy mortar fire on the cordon, and if the other echelons haven't found it by now than it must be in here.

"The echelons are having a difficult time moving any closer," Welrod said. "This could turn into a stalemate soon."

As she spoke, a unit of Sangvis appeared from the other side of the building, Guards, Vespids, and Jaguars, heading into the forest at a fast pace. Grizzly watched them for a moment before looking back to Welrod.

"There's more of them here than we thought," said the British doll. "This could be a tougher battle than anticipated."

CBJ-MS, who had arrived a few minutes prior, spoke up. "We can split our assault force in two, Grizzly leading one and I the other. After the mortar strike, I'll take three of mine and push Sangvis to the west-northwest, Grizzly will take three of hers and head in the opposite direction. SASS and Ak 5 can provide supporting fire from the middle, while your sniper team will cover us."

"I like that, CBJ. Right, I'll call the fire mission now and radio Hunter immediately after. You'll attack when I give the order, understand?"

"Yes ma'am," said Grizzly.

Welrod looked down the binoculars once more, seemed to stop and think, then finally reached for her radio. "Cedar 4-8, this is Rose, adjust fire, over."

The voice that replied was certainly not a doll's, but instead one of the humans in the mortar company. "Rose, this is Cedar 4-8, adjust fire, out," said Captain Koksharov. SASS had only seen the mortar team leader once before they boarded the helicopters.

"Grid Lima Papa one eight zero one five five, over."

"Grid Lima Papa one eight zero one five five, out."

"Sangvis infantry, small mortar platforms, machine gun units, shields in the open, five meters away from a concrete structure, danger close, over."

"Sangvis infantry, small mortar platforms, machine gun units, shields in the open five meters away from a concrete structure, danger close, out."

There was a brief silence, which Welrod used as an opportunity to order Rose Team to get into a sniping position. Then the radio crackled again.

"Shot, over."

"Shot, out," Welrod replied.

There was a tense silence. "Splash, over."

"Splash, out." Welrod raised her binoculars up.

Five seconds later, the mortar round hit. The _crack_ split the air even from where SASS watched in the forest, sending a cloud of dark smoke up in the air and ripping Sangvis dolls in the immediate vicinity to pieces. Those further out were no more fortunate, the concussion wave from the explosion throwing them to the ground while they were pelted with shrapnel and body parts from their comrades. As the smoke drifted, the survivors tried to struggle back up from under the bodies, while the Sangvis outside of the explosion suddenly became animated and moved to plug the gap. Welrod fumbled for the radio again.

"Damn, they're moving fast… Cedar 4-8, this is Rose, direction 6100, left 30, drop 40, fire for effect, over."

"Left 30, drop 40, fire for effect, out."

"Shot, over."

"Shot, out."

The Sangvis dolls that had just been scrambling into position were no longer there.

The barrage came like a thunderstorm, bursts of flame cratering the ground and tossing great piles of dirt into the air that then came down to bury countless Sangvis who had been thrown up with it. But the first wasn't the only one. Just as the smoke began to drift, another round of explosions came, then another, and another, ripping across the Sangvis formation and virtually annihilating it. The factory was obscured in a wall of smoke that started drifting left, and for the moment, no Sangvis stood in defense of it.

"This is Rose to Cedar 4-8, end of mission, estimate 220 casualties, over."

"Cedar 4-8 to Rose, end of mission, estimate 220 casualties, out."

Welrod stowed her binoculars. "All right, let's go!"

From their spot in the forest, Grizzly and Chrysanthemum moved forward. As the sniper teams set up near the edge of the trees, Grizzly and CBJ-MS split their respective teams and moved off to their positions: Grizzly with Ingram, M590 and RFB, CBJ-MS with K11, Type 56-1, and Z-62. Ak 5 and SASS found spots in the destroyed courtyard to set up for their covering fire as the two teams took position a couple dozen meters apart, with Ak 5 and SASS in the middle.

_Keep Sangvis on a poor footing. Don't let them organize. Do that, and let Grizzly take care of the rest. _It would be tough when firing over the heads of or between the four dolls in front of her, but not impossible. This sort of close-combat on a large scale wasn't something SASS was used to – maybe during her time with Thompson but that was a relatively low-level operation against similarly low-level Sangvis.

"Contact, Vespids and Guards coming around the corner!"

"Same here." Grizzly echoed CBJ-MS. SASS looked down the scope, saw Sangvis rounding the corner of the building. They hadn't formed any sort of shield wall yet, that was good. She squeezed off a shot and her dummies did the same, hitting the Guards in their chest and knocking them flat on their backs. A series of _cracks_ came from the woods as Lee-Enfield let off a volley that took out more of the advancing dolls. Then Grizzly Team went to work, the rack of M590's weapon punctuating RFB's steady _chunk_ and the booming .50 AE spitting from Grizzly's barrel. Ingram had her knife in one hand and her machine pistol in the other, something SASS smirked at even as she fired a round past the submachine gun doll's ear.

To her back, Ak 5 was providing her own covering fire. She was faster to the trigger than SASS, but more skilled too, and SASS figured she was doing better then herself. Chrysanthemum was supposed to be the best, after all. SASS adjusted her aim as the oncoming Sangvis surged in number and fired again. She caught glimpses of Ingram going to work with blade and bullet, managing to stab or slice at one Sangvis while she filled a second with lead. The pale-skinned daredevil was skilled, she'd give her that, but Ingram was crude too, brutal and animalistic. SASS downed one of the Strikers rounding the corner just as she saw Ingram jerk her knife out of a Sangvis neck and promptly pounce on another. Grizzly shouted something to M590 that SASS couldn't hear, and they both _laughed_, which SASS could hear even through her sound dampening.

There was a lull in the fighting and SASS reloaded. "Keep your eyes up," Ak 5 warned, but before she even finished speaking there was another volley from Enfield, the Sangvis numbers swelled again, and the cacophony of weapons fire rose once more. _Chakchakchak_ went Ak 5's weapon. SASS couldn't _hear_ the suppressed fire of her own rifle over the other noise, but she could _feel_ the kick and buzz it sent through her body. It was second nature, really, and in a target-rich environment such as the one before her there was no need to aim for more than a millisecond before she pulled the trigger.

SASS looked past the rank of Guards advancing and saw Jaguars moving into position behind the Sangvis line. The Sangvis mortar units were less powerful than the 82mm mortars Griffin's human troops were using, but they were close range and still very deadly. SASS twitched her barrel to the right and found the Jaguar in her scope. Grizzly had seen it too and was ordering the dolls with her to back up, out of the area the Jaguars had targeted. SASS squeezed the trigger but the Guards had raised their shields at the same moment and the bullet _pinged_ off.

The Jaguars' shots arced high in the air, and then they came down – not where Grizzly and her dolls had been fighting, but amongst SASS and Ak 5. The wave of intense heat at her back told SASS all she needed to know as she was pitched forward against the stone garden wall she had been firing from behind. Her already active sound dampeners blocked out the immediate roar of the explosion, but the frantic Zener commands from Welrod and Grizzly afterward were audible enough. There was the pinch as she lost two of her dummies to the explosion, and then the pain from the shrapnel that had embedded itself in her leg. _Focus. Mortars._

SASS pushed herself up and swung her rifle, thankfully still in her grip, around to face towards the enemy once more. Grizzly Team had been scattered by the explosion and was scrambling to get back into position, Grizzly pushing and directing dolls herself. SASS gripped her barrel and looked down the scope, between the Guards' shields, all the way to the Jaguars in the back. More Sangvis units had split off and were distracting the sniper team in the forest. SASS only had a few moments before the Jaguars fired, but she knew what to do – she waited for half a second and squeezed just as the cover on the Jaguar's mortar tube flipped open. The bullet hit the exposed part of the tube and bounced down.

The Jaguar went up in a blossom of flame as the warhead blew prematurely, igniting the rest of the ammunition, which then hit the other Jaguars. The explosion flattened the dolls around it and sent a wind through the Griffin dolls. SASS quickly changed her aim for the Sangvis dolls still standing, the explosion having bought them a brief respite from additional Sangvis forces. They dispatched the remaining enemies quickly, after which Grizzly hopped over the stone wall and knelt by SASS.

"Are you okay?"

"The explosion got me," SASS replied, twisted so Grizzly could see where the shrapnel had hit. The doll probed the wounds with her finger before pinching them.

"The self-healing will close them up so you don't lose any more coolant," Grizzly said, pulling out a bit of shrapnel. SASS grit her teeth and turned down the intensity of the pain simulators in that leg. "But a proper repair will have to be done once we're at base."

"Once we're at base?" said M590, overhearing and walking over to both of them. The shotgun doll knelt down by the team leader and lowered her voice. "Grizzly, I'm starting to have serious doubts about this mission. Fighting Sangvis is one thing, but mortars and unending waves is just too much. Even for us. And–"

She glanced over her shoulder at Chrysanthemum's side of the Griffin defense. They had destroyed the Jaguars but still had to contend with the Guards and Vespids pressing their position as well as the sniper team in the forest. Ak 5 had come out of the mortar strike better than SASS but still short a dummy. M590 adopted a look of concern.

"We can do it," said Grizzly. "It'll be tough. But we can do it. Welrod! How far out is Hunter?"

"Just a few minutes!" replied the doll from where she stood in the courtyard, directing the echelons. "We'll withdraw inside if we have to!"

RFB, who had joined them behind the wall, raised her rifle again. "Grizzly-chan, they're back."

"Where'd they come from…"

"It must be Sangvis forces from the cordon, redirected back to us," said M590 as she loaded more shells. "Stay focused, everyone."

Welrod was speaking behind them, but SASS didn't pay attention. She could see the first of the Sangvis reinforcements as the smoke from the Jaguar explosion cleared, winding through the forest as they returned home from the battle at the cordon. Unlike the other dolls, some of these were already wounded or dirtied from their last engagement. No matter their state of repair, there were a lot of them, joining with the remainder of the garrison to advance. At Grizzly's command the Griffin dolls opened fire and the front few ranks were cut down. But even as Sangvis keeled over, more emerged from the forest, weapons raised and flashing with bursts of plasma. _Where did they all come from?_ SASS had seen a lot of Sangvis before, she knew that the enemy would always have the numerical advantage, but the literal hordes of androids emerging from the forest still shocked her.

The mass of Sangvis scattered as the mortar rounds came in. Just like last time, the Sangvis at the epicenter of the explosion simply disappeared, the more fortunate dolls shoved to the ground… but this time, more Sangvis stepped through the drifting smoke and kept coming, unaffected.

"Repeat, over," Welrod shouted into the radio. "Grizzly, intensify fire so the sniper teams can pull back!"

"What?! They need to stay out there if we're gonna hold this position!"

"We're not holding it. We're pulling inside as soon as possible."

SASS didn't look, but saw Grizzly's head whip around. "Inside. We don't know what's inside. It could be Gestalt."

"Then we'll deal with it. This position is untenable and Hunter hasn't arrived yet. We'll head in, neutralize the HOC emplacement Sangvis has, and hold out until reinforcements arrive. The cordon is moving in as we speak."

SASS dropped a magazine and fed a new one into the magwell. Sangvis was drawing closer, undeterred by the bullets and mortar rounds pelting their advance. She had just lost another dummy to plasma fire when Grizzly grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "SASS, we're going!"

"Got it," said the sniper, salvaging magazines from her fallen dummies before she followed Grizzly. She looked to Chrysanthemum's side to see the dolls there performing a fighting retreat, cutting down Sangvis even as they stepped backwards into the courtyard. Welrod was standing by the doors to the factory, waving everyone inside. The open doors were like a dark maw swallowing the Griffin dolls – _out of the frying pan_, SASS thought as she ran, Sangvis weapons fire zipping by as she went. M590 was behind her, armor plates raised for defense. Another mortar barrage pulverized the Sangvis and bought time for the rest of Chrysanthemum and Grizzly to stampede inside the factory. SASS stopped and panted to let off heat as Welrod hurriedly pulled the door shut and started shoving furniture and equipment in front of it.

They were in some sort of waiting room or reception area for the factory, though it had clearly not been used for years, given the dust settling on the secretary's desk and general poor repair of the facility. SASS spied bloodstains on the floor, but they were dried and flaking, surely years old.

"Come on," Ingram said suddenly. "It was just getting good. What the hell was that?!"

"She's got a point," said CBJ-MS, looking at Welrod. "What's your plan?"

"We'll find a way upstairs, enter the right wing, and wait it out there."

Grizzly glanced at her own team. "Look, that's great, but I'm not really feeling a great chance of success if the Ringleader's in here. Where the hell is Hunter?"

Welrod pursed her lips. "Inbound. There were problems encountered with available helicopters. It shouldn't be more than five minutes."

"Great…"

"We'll go up to the second floor, neutralize the HOC they've got up there, and maybe even thin out the Sangvis from that position. Hey," said Welrod, looking to get everyone's attention. "I know this is like a war movie. But we're going to make it out alive. Everyone is."

M590 busted down the door and stepped into the next room. Besides the light streaming in through the dusty windows set high above, the factory floor was quite dark. M590 swept it with a flashlight as everyone else followed her, their footsteps echoing about uncomfortably. _At least it's not as dark as the hangar was._

"Stairs up to the catwalk," Grizzly said, pointing to the corner. "SASS, RFB, head up."

"K11, go with them," CBJ-MS ordered. SASS exchanged a glance with her teammate before they advanced towards the corner, glancing at the dormant conveyor belts and machinery as they went. The stairs were clear of rust but still dirty, frozen in time, and as SASS followed RFB up she couldn't help but wonder when the last human had walked here.

On the catwalk they had a much better view of everything. Certain corners and walls of the building were still shrouded in darkness, but SASS could see where the other dolls were going as well as the layout of the factory floor itself. The catwalks connected to a second floor a couple dozen meters away from where she stood, and it was there that she could see the hole that was blown into the side of the building. There was indeed a Sangvis missile launcher emplacement, and even as they watched it fired, sending a backblast that kicked up debris and briefly shrouded it in dust. RFB glanced back at SASS and K11, a bit skeptical.

"How're we handling this?"

K11 answered before SASS could. "Take out those guards and operators, plant some explosion, blow it up."

RFB looked at SASS, who shrugged. "Works for me."

The Rippers guarding the emplacement had barely noticed the three dolls before RFB and K11 took them down with bursts of fire. SASS put a round into the head of the doll loading a missile into the launcher. "Grizzly, it's clear up here. We're planting explosives on the launcher now."

"Understood. The bottom floor's empty, we're making our way back to the stairwell."

SASS watched K11 set her box of explosives down and open it. "How long?"

"Not long at all. I'll just link this to a trigger. We'll have to stand pretty far back in case the explosion catches the ammunition dump, but it's shielded, so I doubt it'll happen."

"Alright. RFB, head back to the catwalks." SASS turned and went toward the launcher, going to the edge of the hole and peering over the jagged concrete. The Sangvis dolls outside were massed by the barred entrance to the building, perhaps waiting for something. Their utter stillness was unnerving to SASS, and she could only stand to watch a few seconds more before she turned away. K11 was still setting the explosives, so SASS started walking back to the catwalk.

Just then, someone on the bottom floor shouted. RFB stopped walking across the catwalks and aimed her rifle at the floor below, firing a shot that bounced off of a machine with a bright peal of noise. Something clattered below, then there was a _donggg_ and a grunt. SASS rushed to the edge of the second floor and looked over the railing as Grizzly opened fire.

The all too familiar figure of Gestalt was briefly illuminated in the flash from Grizzly's muzzle. The Ringleader was like a spot in the world that was totally empty, absorbing light and impossible to track in the murky twilight of the poorly illuminated floor. RFB let off a shot from her vantage point, but SASS had lost track of the Ringleader. Welrod shouted commands and the dolls shot when they weren't obstructed by machinery, firing bursts at what SASS suspected was merely nothing. Gestalt was at home in the factory, using its layout to her advantage.

"There, shoot it!" Grizzly bellowed, and SASS felt the railing shake as something grabbed onto it. She looked down, disbelieving, then stepped back; first one foot, then another, then a frantic stumble as Gestalt hauled itself over the railing with minimal effort. SASS tripped and fell, raised her rifle as Gestalt broke into a run, fired a shot that missed – and Gestalt's foot hit the concrete as it ran to where K11 was kneeling by the HOC and seized her by the neck.

RFB's fire bounced off of Gestalt's armor as K11 kicked at its torso, having little effect. In the light streaming in through the hole in the wall, SASS could see Gestalt's face: a moulded imitation of a human's, a mask more than anything else. K11 was reaching for the detonator on her belt, but Gestalt had grabbed her arm and held it tight

"K11!" CBJ-MS shouted as the rest of the dolls clattered up the stairs. SASS clambered to her feet and reached for her rifle, but it was nowhere to be found – she had lost it over the railing in her rush to get away. With no choice left, SASS reached for her knife and drew it. Gestalt was preoccupied with K11 and had its hands full – there wouldn't be a better time. SASS ran for it and, taking her knife in both hands, shoved the point right into the crevice between Gestalt's arm and torso.

The Ringleader shouted – not with OTs-12's voice like it did in the hangar, but in a rough voice that hurt SASS's ears. It let go of K11's arm and struck SASS, who felt her grip pull away from the knife handle as she was pushed back. It raised an arm and SASS watched in frozen horror as the forearm split and its spike extended – the same spike Ingram had been impaled on – and locked into place. But by now it was too late. SASS saw K11 smile – smile even as she hung in Gestalt's grip, smile as the Ringleader pulled the spike back in preparation to strike, smile as she raised the detonator in her hand and pulled the trigger.

The explosives on the missile launcher blew. SASS wasn't that close to the launcher, but the heat scorched her and it _hurt_ – how much C4 had K11 used? – as Gestalt and K11 were thrown away from the launcher and to the floor. The Ringleader got to its feet and, seeing all the Griffin dolls lined up on the catwalk, dashed for the railing, vaulted over it, and disappeared.

SASS was clambering to her feet when Ingram approached and offered a hand. "Guess we're even now when it comes to facing down Ringleaders," the doll grinned as she helped SASS up. "Where's your knife?"

"Stu... stuck in it," SASS breathed, looking down at her body. The explosion had blackened parts of her clothes and sent even more shrapnel her way, but that felt like nothing when SASS was so exhilarated at surviving. The image of Gestalt's face was seared into her mind, not to mention its cry of pain. "K11…"

The demolitions expert had felt the explosion far worse than SASS. If any part of her back wasn't burnt, it was leaking coolant instead, dripping to the floor. K11 could walk, barely, as CBJ-MS helped her to sit against the wall.

"Good job," said Welrod as she and Grizzly approached. "Great job, even. Hunter's chopper just arrived."

"Did you get it? Gestalt? Is it over?"

"For us," said Grizzly, as the chop of the helicopter's rotor blades grew in volume. "Let them handle it. We're done here."

SASS stared at Grizzly for a moment. _We're done here. _That was it. NTW-20 would take care of it. She was done. She had completed the mission.

_No. I think we've got a lot left to do._


	34. StG 44 Chapter 10

"I don't like it," said Type 79.

Hunter Squadron stood arrayed around the double doors that Gestalt had reportedly disappeared through. They had been forced open, that was for sure, though the broken chain still hanging from the door handle looked as old as the door itself. StG felt as if this was hardly the first time Sangvis had passed through these doors.

The factory was silent, the other three doll teams having gone outside several minutes ago, where they'd set up another cordon in case Gestalt doubled back. NTW-20 had exchanged a few words with Welrod and CBJ-MS and Grizzly before moving on, while Type 56-1 waved at StG while carrying an injured K11 over her shoulders. StG merely waved back and averted her gaze. _Better to not talk to them_, she had told herself.

"Agreed," said NTW-20. "This place was formerly Sangvis. They must've had infrastructure underneath, and that means it could be connected to other Sangvis structures or bases. We don't know what's down there."

"...great…" FAMAS toed a chunk of concrete in front of her. "So we're walking into something we know nothing about, in close quarters, in the dark."

"There's probably power down there," Tokarev ventured. "And we have equipment."

"Sure, but who's to say Gestalt hasn't cut the power to the lights? This night-vision gear is less useful than Kerr's v-"

"Quit it." NTW-20 stopped speaking for a moment. "Alright, Throne's updated as to our status. 44, open the door."

StG stepped forward and grabbed the door handle, turning it and pulling the door open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. It was pitch black beyond the doorway, and even when StG turned on her flashlight the beam did not penetrate far enough to show them much of anything, besides the fact that it was a stairwell.

"Type 79, take point. StG, behind her."

Type 79 pulled open the other door and stepped forward. Because of the close quarters nature of the factory, they would have their dummies follow behind the five mainframe dolls so they didn't get in the way. StG went after Type 79, then NTW, then Tokarev, then FAMAS as rearguard.

For a while, there was no sound except for the _scuff-clop_ as they took cautious steps down the stairs, around the landing, then more stairs, then another landing… it seemed to go on forever. _How deep are we going? _Their flashlights swept across blank wall after blank wall, a single darkened light fixture at every landing. Nothing could be heard under the layers of concrete and stone and dirt above them: not the chop of helicopter blades, not the echo of distant gunfire and mortar rounds, not even the wind blowing down into the valley. Despite the quiet, StG was tight like a coiled spring in anticipation of what lay ahead. Gestalt could be lurking around any corner, waiting to jump out at Hunter. _I have to be ready_, StG told herself. _I can do this. Just like any other Ringleader._ She gripped the barrel of her rifle tighter.

It occurred to her that she had not actually fought Gestalt. M99, one of the elite dolls on base, had crossed with it, as had Grizzly Team (twice), but none of the dolls on the dedicated Ringleader hunting team had personally met the enemy. StG appreciated the irony in that, but more importantly she felt apprehensive. They knew what Gestalt could do, sure, but knowing something and experiencing it were two different things. As confident as NTW-20 and FAMAS were, they were no better prepared for this engagement than Yew Team had been all those weeks ago. It seemed like a different time when OTs-12 had disappeared – a blissful time of ignorance, when nobody knew about the Sangvis terror lurking in S17.

They rounded another corner and kept walking down. Type 79 occasionally shined her flashlight into the corner or paused to listen, but there was never anything except dust and echoes. StG 44 strained her audio receptors for anything, but there was only the scuff of their shoes on the concrete and the rush of coolant through her body.

"Why aren't any of the lights on?" Tokarev muttered.

"Sangvis doesn't need it like we do," NTW-20 replied. "If they have it mapped out with OGAS, they can just set their dolls on a premade route."

"This darkness… Да, тут любой на стрёме будет." Tokarev made a sound of disapproval.

"Hey, quiet." Type 79 quit moving and stood still, stopping the whole squad behind her. "There's something around the landing."

Without a single signal, everyone simultaneously raised their weapons up. Type 79 started forward slowly, advancing step by step down the stairs. Her prosthetic finger was on the trigger, ready to squeeze off a shot, and StG was just as ready to start shooting. She watched as the submachine gun paused, then darted forward, sweeping her barrel around the corner neatly. Hunter followed behind her.

A dead body lay in the corner of the landing. Not a Sangvis or Griffin doll, but what had once been a living, breathing human. The skin underneath the dusty white lab coat was yellowed, stretched tight across the skeleton and turning what had once been a face into an ugly, grimacing skull that managed to look regretful even in death. A hole had been burnt into its chest while a pair of glasses had fallen off its face into its lap. The purple emblem of Sangvis Ferri was emblazoned on the pocket on the lab coat, and beneath that was an ID card. StG knelt by the corpse and took the ID, inspecting it.

"Bukharin, Iosef. Male, 37. Assistant Researcher," StG read.

"Keep it," said NTW. "Kerr can give it to next of kin."

StG pocketed the ID and they moved on.

"Another Butterfly victim to be reported," FAMAS said bitterly. "Remind me why we don't just blitz Sangvis into the ground and go home?"

"The NSU contract with Griffin. We contain only."

That explanation never sat easy, no matter how often it was said. StG glanced once more at the corpses as they walked by it, and then she was around the corner and it was out of sight.

They had reached the thirtieth landing when there was suddenly no corner to turn around. A door faced Hunter instead. Though it was completely nondescript, StG caught NTW-20's brief look of surprise before she ordered Type 79 to lead them through it.

Beyond was an anteroom that led into a room of inky blackness. Despite the bright LED flashlights every doll carried, they could only get narrow glimpses of the expansive chamber around them. Cargo containers were stacked neatly on the other side, abandoned forklifts and trucks sitting around, looking like they'd been abandoned mid-use. StG swung her flashlight beam up towards the ceiling, discovering a large gantry that straddled the room. Perhaps _hall_ was a more appropriate word here, given how long and wide it was. Type 79 whistled as she inspected a wooden crate.

"Looks like vintage pre-Butterfly equipment, untouched."

"Leave it that way," NTW-20 said sternly. "This looks like some sort of shipping center or depot. Railroad tracks here. No car, though."

"Sangvis and railroad doesn't sound like a good combination."

"Well, they couldn't power it even if they wanted to. What matters is where this leads…"

They'd already gone deep underground. StG wasn't keen on venturing any further than this. Her gut – rather, preprogrammed survival instincts – told her no, to stay here, or even return to the surface and radio for help. But that wasn't how Hunter operated. They were a solo team, and always would be. That suited StG just fine, no matter what her gut said.

"So what's the plan?" she asked over Zener.

"We wait here, try to lure Gestalt out. If it's a no-show, then we start searching the area, and follow those railroad tracks if we have to."  
The others shifted uncomfortably, but didn't protest. NTW pulled a couple glowsticks off her belt, snapped and shook them, then threw them around the floor. The grey Sangvis-marked shipping containers were all around them, and one container even dangled from the gantry. StG made note of its position so she wouldn't walk under it. Everyone was double checking their equipment again, and then once more after that.

"What'd you do?" Tokarev asked NTW.

"I broadcast a signal anyone within range could hear. It's disguised as an open transmission to command, so there's less of a chance of Gestalt seeing it as bait."

"What if it _chooses_ not to engage?"  
NTW-20 seemed to shrug. "Then we get to earn our title."

_Poetic_. Sturmgewehr found herself missing K11 and the rest of Chrysanthemum. Hunter was all work and no talk when they were on the hunt, but Chrysanthemum had a fine balance of professionalism and social tendencies that made moments like this bearable. NTW was a good leader, but when it came to motivation, Hunter was generally left to their own devices. CBJ-MS would at least have had something encouraging to say, if one of the other dolls didn't crack a joke. That surprised SASS more than anything else; even in this moment, she was thinking of that squad more than Hunter.

No, she had to _focus_. This wasn't the time for sentimentality.

"That's enough waiting for now," NTW-20 said finally, a hint of impatience edging into her voice. She didn't seem scared at all. "Type 79, find a way to get the power on. StG can keep you company."

Type 79 had the luxury of a rail on her gun with which she could mount a flashlight. StG was forced to carry hers in one hand as she walked behind the SMG doll, who was walking along one of the walls of the depot. "The power station or breaker room should be around here," she said, the Zener voice coming across as a mutter. "Unless Sangvis sabotaged the equipment, it should still be operational."  
StG's mind went to Grizzly's AAR she had read after that team had the first run in with Gestalt. It had been a similar situation: large, abandoned room with no lights and plenty of shadows for the Ringleader to hide in. How the hell could NTW-20 get off with not being scared, when _this_ was the situation? Nothing like it had been presented in the flash-training they received when they first became T-dolls, nor had they ever fought like this, in Hunter or their previous units. Maybe their pink-haired leader was just exceptionally good at concealing her fear. Indeed, she was positively sphinx-like even in day-to-day interactions, and even though her most common emotion seemed to be laughter, StG knew – she _knew_ – that NTW-20 had something else going on underneath that taciturn exterior.

"Yup, here we are," Type 79 said, coming to a halt and shining her flashlight on a door handle. "Fingers crossed we don't get any corpses, eh?"  
StG's brow knitted for a moment before she followed Type 79 into the room, shining her flashlight around. A large control board was situated by a window overlooking a large generator room, an immense breaker panel on the wall next to it. The SMG looked at the arrangement before chuckling.

"I guess the stories about Sangvis disregarding building codes were true. Let's see what I can do from this panel."

"What stories?"

"You know, conspiracy theories in the, uh, less reputable technical magazines. I read them from time to time, good fiction… though now it all seems a bit prophetic. I knew Sangvis factories and such were a bit…"

She searched for a word.

"..._Soviet_, if you get my meaning, but from what I've seen in this building it really takes it to the extreme."

_I really don't care_. "And the generators?"

"Intact. Though it looks like we'll have to kick them on manually. Head into the generator room and look for a switch. Should be pretty close. Watch your step."

StG eased the door open and stepped inside, slinging her rifle in a position where she could grab it easily. The flashlight was a high-powered one – Hunter typically got the best gear. Her footsteps echoed around the concrete room as she stepped down the catwalk, as quietly as she could. It was entirely possible that Gestalt was hiding here the same way Grizzly said she had been hiding in the factory… except there wasn't a 45-to-1 numerical advantage this time. Her dummies were outside with the main group, on sentry duty, so it was just her and Type 79.

"Got it yet?"

"Yeah, right here." StG stopped short of the control panel in front of her. There were precious few labels, and whoever made the panel didn't seem very keen on making it intuitive. "Er… what am I pressing?"

"There should be a quick start button on the panel. Maybe yellow?"

"Why don't _you_ do this?"

"I've got my own work to do here. Trust me, you should be glad you're out there."

StG rolled her eyes and looked around for the button. "There's a couple of yellow ones here. Oh, and a yellow lever. I think it says–"

"DON'T FLIP THAT!" Type 79 yelled. "Just… press the one on the top left."

StG found the button, closed her eyes to savor what might be her last moment in this world, and pressed the button.

With a rumble and low _thrum_, the generators came to life. StG could feel Type 79's elation emanating over Zener, but the SMG did her best not to let it show in her voice.

"Great, now you can flip that lever."

"Okay, done. Now what?"

"Standby… that should keep the system online. Now we have to route the power to the main room. Look for a series of sliders."

StG found it. "Here."

"Okay, on the count of three, slide the top six all the way to the right."

"Alright."

"One. Two. Three."

StG's machine precision meant all six sliders hit the other side at the exact same time. There was a brief hiccup in the constant noise of the generators, then Type 79 spoke again.

"Looks good from here. I can finish up from this panel, so just head on back."

StG backed away from the panel and turned around, raising her flashlight to shine it on a totally empty catwalk. Below, the generators hummed away, happily providing power for the underground facility. The T-doll turned off her flashlight as she approached the control room, where Type 79 was waiting.

"Remind NTW never to assign me to work with you," StG said, doing her best to keep the sour edge out of her voice.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Well, stressful. I don't want to accidentally blow myself up."

"Well, safety measures would prevent that. Though this is pretty Soviet, so who knows if said safety measures would even work or not."

"You have a motivational style rivaled by none," StG quipped. Type 79 gave her a funny look.

NTW inclined her head in a single approving nod as they emerged from between the shipping crates, her pink hair hazy in the half-light of the warming lights.. "Good to see you two got the power running. Looks like Gestalt's a no-show."

"Sangvis always seems happy to ruin our plans, even if it means _not_ attacking us for once," Type 79 replied. "So what's the plan now?"

NTW-20 turned to Tokarev, who merely raised her pistol up.

"Really?"

_CRACK!_

The round _pinged_ off the gantry framework, sending a ring that lasted a few seconds. "Hey, watch it!" NTW-20 admonished Tokarev out loud while she winked at the handgun doll. "That's supposed to be on safe!"

"Yeah, that's the deal? Newbies…" FAMAS added, turning around and scanning the back of the room as she did. StG was about to say something when NTW-20 spoke over Zener.

"Another piece of bait."

_A bit crude_, StG thought. NTW-20 didn't seem the type to wait like this for so long.

Was she _scared_?

That was, in a way, more worrying than Gestalt herself.

Everyone flinched as something echoed through the room, a hollow bouncing that turned into a steady roll. StG listened intently as the sound grew closer, an annoyingly constant noise that ground on her concentration. Everyone spread out a little, weapons raised and pointed towards the noise.

"Oh, for…" NTW-20 grabbed the high-intensity flashlight off her belt and shined it around. It was larger than the standard issue and much brighter. The doll held her rifle under one arm as she searched for the source of the noise. "Everyone get ready."

StG shifted her gloved grip on the rifle, following the shifting flashlight beam with her eyes. First it landed on a crate, then the rails, then across the concrete floor, until NTW-20 seemed to have a lock on the sound and moved the beam to intercept it. A single empty water jug rolled across the floor, innocent and harmless.

"Ah," said Tokarev. Then some much heavier dropped to the floor behind StG and FAMAS inhaled sharply. By the time the rest of Hunter turned around, NTW-20 only managed to catch the tip of a shadowy black leg in the flashlight beam. Surprisingly, it was Tokarev who acted quickest, raising her pistol and squeezing off a quick succession of shots that sounded like they hit.

"_Merde…_" FAMAS held a hand to her neck. "That _hurts._"

"What's the plan, leader?" Type 79 asked.

"Standby. Tokarev, here." NTW handed the high-intensity flashlight to the handgun doll. "Just keep scanning with the flashlights. FAMAS, are you all right?"

"Oui, the healing should kick in, it's not that big a wound…"

StG was holding her rifle up towards the top of the stacked shipping crates, watching for Gestalt, but she glanced at the French doll, who was rubbing the back of her neck, bent over.

"Are you sure? Use one of the repair kits if you need it," NTW said.

"No, no, I'll be… I'll be…"

StG felt like something had just been unplugged – a forced disconnect from Zener. She lowered her aim and turned around to see FAMAS with her eyes shut tight in an ugly grimace, panting heavily. The doll looked pained, digging at the back of her neck with one hand while the other traced a frantic path on her scalp. NTW-20 shouldered her rifle and raised it.

Tokarev seemed to realize what was happening. "Wait, wait, n–"

FAMAS rushed NTW, reaching out and slapping the barrel aside just as the twenty millimeter rifle fired, splitting the air and temporarily brightening the still dim room with the muzzle flash. The heat from the brake seared FAMAS's arm, but the doll seemed not to care, yanking the anti-material rifle forward and pulling NTW-20 off balance.

"Hey, what's–"

"Shoot her!" NTW-20 shouted before FAMAS landed a kick in her belly, driving the doll back as the rest of Hunter hesitantly raised their weapons again. FAMAS didn't wait, lunging for Type 79 next. The SMG jerked back, shining the barrel-mounted flashlight at FAMAS but not shooting.

"What's gotten into you?!"

"Shoot her now!" NTW was rushing back into the fight, but FAMAS's dummies jerked to life and rushed Hunter. StG was hesitant to fire until one of them came right for her. Then she squeezed the trigger and put a round into the dummy's cranium, and two follow ups in its neck and chest.

To her left, Tokarev was struggling with a FAMAS that had pinned her. StG sent another shot through the dummy's arm, which let Tokarev wrest her hand free, raise her pistol to the dummy's temple, and fire again. StG left Tokarev and rushed forward, slipping by the two dummies NTW-20 was fighting to get to Type 79. FAMAS was wrestling with the doll over her gun, one hand clenched around the barrel while the other was grasping at 79's neck. StG took her left hand off her gun and set it down on FAMAS's back, gripping her by the collar and yanking back as hard as she could. The green-haired doll was lifted up and fell down hard, scrambling upright with animal ferocity, her sights now set on StG.

It was like a dance, StG letting go with two round bursts, taking quick steps to avoid FAMAS's grabs, the doll clawing at the air StG had just inhabited. Her Digimind was racing, trying to figure out what was happening – a Sangvis virus, it must be – and then determine what to do. NTW-20 had ordered her to shoot FAMAS, but everything StG had been trained to do said no, that shooting a Griffin T-doll was wrong and against the rules. Maybe that was why her shots were missing.

But StG hated FAMAS. She hated the doll's demeanor and superiority and for months now she had been waiting for a chance to wipe it off her face. Now that chance was given to her. FAMAS reached out and snagged StG's ankle, pulling her off balance. Even as she fell, StG aimed a kick at FAMAS, propelling her bootheel at the doll's face and, once it connected, doing it repeatedly until a part of her white skin broke away, a coolant duct spilling red over the floor. StG shoved FAMAS away and pulled her leg free of her grip, standing up and backing away. Tokarev was helping NTW-20 finish off the two dummies while Type 79 shadowed StG, looking for a chance to fire. She did now, finding her target in FAMAS's leg. The doll stumbled, but continued with frightening abandon, seizing her rifle and letting loose with a spray of bullets that ripped through the air around StG. Then she charged, even as Type 79 stitched a line of fire that crossed FAMAS's thigh, and closed in on StG.

Sturmgewehr's first shot hit the rampaging T-doll in the shoulder, but the second was thrown wide when FAMAS slammed into StG, lifting the doll bodily and throwing her back a meter. StG tried to land on her feet, but wobbled, allowing FAMAS to launch into a tackle, taking her to the ground. The mad doll's face leered at StG, stained with her own coolant, until StG pushed her away with her free hand. FAMAS was surprisingly strong, even for a doll, and StG struggled to push her off. She caught a glimpse of something approaching – Type 79 – and then the SMG's barrel was pushed against FAMAS's temple. With reflexes that belied her animal behavior, FAMAS flicked her head up just before Type 79 pulled the trigger, and the bullet zipped through her cheek instead of her skull. Another lightning strike pushed Type 79 back. StG twisted her body to throw FAMAS off balance before she punched her in the jaw, brought her rifle around, and shoved the barrel in her chest.

The bullet went through her core and left her back with a wet squelch, then FAMAS keeled over. StG quickly got out from under her and trained her rifle on the doll's head.

_I've always been better than you._ FAMAS writhed on the ground, her failing core unable to send proper commands to the motors and servos in her limbs. Coolant pooled beneath her, soaking her already crimson clothes, melding with her wrecked face to form a grotesque appearance StG simply could not pity. She raised the rifle up and twice. FAMAS went limp. StG spat.

"What the… what was that…" Type 79 breathed, still holding her weapon up.

"A virus. Gestalt turned her against us," NTW-20 replied. The doll pulled her knife free of one of the dummies and wiped it off before sheathing it. "It's the same sort of thing that happened to RPD. Rampancy, compromised logic systems. A delaying tactic."

"So…"

"She has backups. But that corpse… no, it's compromised. We can't take the combat recorder. No contact with Gestalt means no contact with corpses, as far as I'm concerned." Her pink eyes looked to StG. "Good job taking her down, 44."

NTW-20 gestured for Tokarev to hand her back the flashlight before she started walking away. Everyone hesitated, looking at FAMAS's body, before following her. StG looked the longest. She somehow had trouble bringing herself to hate the corpse. At the end of the day, FAMAS was just like any other doll – killable, and a sad sight once she was dead. StG wished she hadn't spit. "She's dead…" she murmured. NTW-20 only saw it as a delaying tactic from Gestalt.

"What?" said Type 79. StG shook her head. She wanted to confront NTW about it. She wanted to ask why she didn't care. But they had a mission to do, and they couldn't waste time arguing. StG could put aside these differences for the sake of the job.

"Nothing. What about Gestalt?"

NTW-20 picked her rifle back up off the ground and racked the bolt.

"She's not here," the doll said. "Which means it's time to go hunting."


	35. OTs-12 Chapter 5

The metal was cool and rough on her palms.

OTs-12 stepped off the bottom rung and raised her rifle to cover the door as SV-98 climbed down after her. It was quiet down underground, and every footfall and shift of clothing was as loud as a gunshot in the empty concrete corridors. It was something that she had gotten used to – long, sleepless nights in the forests of S17, stalking Sangvis, or being stalked; the exploration of abandoned facilities, the long trek across the mountainside they had made in the first week. All of it had gotten her used to the hours, even days of solitude and silence that characterized their self-imposed exile.

Now, they were closer than they'd ever been to putting it all behind them.

SV-98 jumped off the last rung and pulled her rifle off its sling. She was still using the Mosin-Nagant they had picked up at the camp, just as Tiss was using the AK-12. The Kalashnikov wasn't her weapon, not by any means, but it was familiar enough that she didn't have much trouble operating it. Gesturing for SV-98 to cover the entrance, OTs-12 leaned forward with one hand outstretched, cautiously turning the doorknob and pulling the door open with a breathy whine of the hinges.

The room beyond looked dark and empty, just like the rest of the facility. Tiss pushed the door the rest of the way open and led the way in, rifle raised and eyes alert for any sign of Sangvis in hiding. No surprises awaited them, however, to OTs-12's silent relief. Only dusty furniture and computers filled the room, in pristine condition after having been sealed away for several years. I feel like we're entering a crypt.

Satisfied that the room was safe, the doll slung her rifle and reached for her backpack, pulling the map out and unfolding it. SV-98 had snatched the pre-Butterfly schematic when she spotted it at the last facility they visited, and it had proven invaluable in navigating the underground facility underneath the abandoned Sangvis factory. In fact, the biggest problem thus far hadn't been gaining access, it was slipping by the Griffin cordon in order to reach one of the entrances. That had pained Tiss the most since the run in with that echelon a week or so ago – sneaking by dolls she had once called an ally. We're here, she wanted to say, we're Griffin too. But that was the sort of thought that would get you killed, and she and SV-98 had a job to do that she doubted any Griffin unit would be able to complete.

"We're finally on the right level, then," SV-98 said softly, studying the schematic. OTs-12 nodded, tracing their path with a finger and committing it to memory. She had less mental storage than she used to since the Ringleader's tampering during their capture, but it could hold a small map. "So I guess it's not that much further…"

Tiss folded the map and stowed it. Then she looked back to SV.

'Still have to find it. Could be anywhere,' she signed.

The blonde doll pouted. Tiss wished she'd stop doing that. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Can I have your Grach?"

Tiss yanked the pistol free of its holster and handed it to SV-98, switching the safety off as she did so. The other doll would have a hard time maneuvering the long Mosin-Nagant in the confines of the underground facility, especially if the Ringleader set upon them in close-quarters. Not that the pistol will do much in the way of defense. She pulled her AK-12 off her shoulder and put it back in her hands, gesturing 'forward' with a single point. The assault rifle was quite functional despite years of abandonment, but Tiss was reluctant to use it for much of anything. Guns were loud, and she had come to find that silence was preferable when it was just two dolls against a sector's worth of Sangvis and a Ringleader with an uncanny ability to be anywhere right when it shouldn't be. Not to mention that the 5.45 cartridge wasn't worth much when faced with the Sangvis's armor. Maybe up close, Tiss wondered. It wasn't a theory she wanted to test.

It was just as empty in the next room. OTs-12 rubbed at her throat as she lowered her rifle momentarily, scanning the place once again for anything useful or of note. Her scar was just as bothersome as ever – her body's automated healing system was strained to its limit, she knew – but she had become more aware of its ache as she and SV-98 drew closer to finding the Sangvis. It was a reminder of what the Ringleader had taken from her, in that darkened cave all those weeks ago. For all the memory problems caused by its meddling with her Digimind, she could remember that moment as clearly as what she saw in front of her right now.

"Nothing here. I don't think Sangvis uses this facility," SV-98 said, setting down a dusty booklet that looked like an owner's manual. Tiss remembered seeing that sort of stuff at Griffin–

No, she couldn't think about that.

'Bad for large troop movement. Not their style. Ringleader, maybe.' Tiss waited until SV-98's face changed – it was quick, the doll had quickly become good at picking up on OTs-12's hand movements – until picking her rifle back up.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. All these narrow hallways aren't good for big armies and stuff."

Tiss merely nodded curtly before moving to the next door. The Sangvis facility was as labyrinthine as the Griffin sector base–

Damnit.

As labyrinthine as… well, she thought, grasping for another comparison and coming up empty. Tiss wasn't as learned as some others. The Sangvis facility was by no means simple. They had already gone through four main levels, each with six sublevels under it, and were now on the sixth, working their way toward the room that they guessed the Ringleader was in. It was more OTs-12's guesswork than SV-98's, since it was she who had been able to sense where the Ringleader was, insofar as a gut feeling counted as that. But she knew that it was here, and knew that it was lurking in the lowest, and biggest level of the facility. Tiss planned to end the Sangvis's life as soon as she could. She did not want to live like this any longer.

The doll berated herself as she and SV-98 worked their way through room after room. She absolutely could not afford to think about anything from the life they had left behind, if only temporarily. Talking to and escorting the crashed Griffin dolls had been a huge risk that OTs-12 only took because she wasn't willing to see another echelon of dolls become the next Yew incident. And with two humans, to boot. But she had come out of that fine, even if her core was shaking every step of the way. She assured herself that it would be over soon. It had to be.

As they squeezed through another door, Tiss flinched as she saw what looked like a Sangvis – but it was just another human corpse. They had encountered a few of them as they journeyed through the facility, a grisly reminder of what had occurred here after the Butterfly Incident. SV-98 crouched by the body and inspected it, careful not to disturb it any more than she had to.

"Here, a keycard," she said, blowing some dust off and holding it up to her flashlight. Tiss looked over her shoulder. It was a high-level pass, which could be useful. SV pocketed it as they moved on.

After passing through several chambers, Tiss tapped her partner on the shoulder and told her to hold here while she closed her eyes. It was tough to focus on the sense of the Ringleader, and she had to divert processing power from several other functions in order to concentrate on that feeling, that tugging at her mind, in order to locate –

Yes, there. 'Still far. We have time,' she signed to SV-98, who nodded soberly. This room had a large, angled wall of windows in front of a set of consoles, looking out on a room of inky blackness. Their flashlights were of little use, the glass merely shining light back in their eyes, so Tiss pulled the schematic back out.

"Oh, a stairwell," SV-98 said, observing the map. Tiss nodded, then pointed to the chamber it linked to, then the glass, then the door on the other side of the room they were in now. "I'll follow, then…"

If possible, the hallway beyond that door was even more claustrophobic than the airlocks and narrow chambers they had passed through already. SV-98 had slung her rifle and taken out the pistol, which she used to cover the back while Tiss led them forward. They would periodically stop and listen – the Ringleader wasn't near, but OTs-12 was paranoid enough that she had to make sure that nothing was following them. The hallways were empty for all that she could see and hear, however, and when they reached the door, she opened it without event.

Even if they didn't have their flashlights, Tiss could still feel how large this chamber was. Their footsteps echoed as they stepped out of the hallway, and Tiss shone her flashlight around to get a sense of the room. Two sets of railroad tracks ran across the ground, and at the far left end was a large, round door blocking the tracks, at least double their height.

Their target was beyond that hatch. OTs-12 looked around for a control panel, some way to open it, but the room was empty, save for the tunnel to the right. It went farther than their lights could see, to some unknown destination. The doll did not want to imagine what might lie in wait further down the rails. She turned back to SV-98.

'Control room. Open.'

"Ah…"

When they arrived back at the room, Tiss set her rifle down on top of the row of window consoles and sat down, analyzing the system. It was an intentionally analog design, better for security, but she supposed that with enough studying she could puzzle it out. After all, it couldn't be that difficult. The station powered up just a few seconds after pressing the button, to her surprise.

"Huh, that's odd. This is supposed to be shut down," SV-98 said. Tiss frowned, befuddled as well.

'Other visitors?' she signed quickly before getting back to work. Maybe the station had been left running on standby mode, or else Sangvis was planning on taking up residence and had already restored power. If there was someone else beside the Ringleader in the facility, it could very easily throw a wrench in the works. They did not have the skill to take on a large Sangvis host, and if it was Griffin, well, that was a huge risk in a completely different way.

Tiss glanced back at SV-98 for a moment. The blonde doll had taken a seat on one of the office chairs, watching the door while she had the Grach rested on one leg. She looked as dejected as she probably felt. It had been hard for the optimistic doll, especially when she had to really come to terms with the situation. Tiss just hoped it wouldn't be too late for her to get back to Griffin and return to her normal self.

The system was quite functional. Tiss let it boot up, text scrolling across the screen before it cleared and gave her what she was looking for.

/SYSTEM ONLINE

/PLEASE SELECT A FUNCTION

Tiss raised an eyebrow before choosing "Security".

/SECURITY

/PLEASE INPUT CREDENTIALS

"Hey!" SV-98 held up a hand as Tiss shined the flashlight in her face to get the doll's attention. "What's that for?!"

'Keycard,' she fingerspelled in reply, not having a proper word for it. SV pulled the card out of her pocket and handed it to Tiss, who inserted it into the console's receptacle and let it process the card.

/CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED

/SECURITY

/CAMERAS

/DOOR CONTROL

/LOCKS

/SYSTEM

Tiss tried the cameras just for the hell of it, but they were predictably offline. She went for the door control, selecting the big tunnel door, and was confronted with a confirmation message. That gave her pause. Opening the door would definitely alert the Ringleader to their presence, and whoever else was in this part of the facility. They'd go from quiet to loud in one moment – and even though they had plenty of ammunition, "guns blazing" was not quite their style. She just hoped the place was as abandoned as it had been so far. They had only encountered a few Sangvis on the upper levels, which were quickly dispatched. Either way, the two of them still had a ways to go until they reached the Ringleader, if Tiss's instincts were right.

She selected YES. The screen blinked in affirmation, then the room beyond was lit up as the big ceiling lights came to life, nearly blinding Tiss. She let her eyes adjust before looking again. It was a huge room, the door taking up most of the wall. Despite the years, it appeared to be in good repair, with only a few spots of rust. Everything was still for a moment longer until the orange hazard lights on the flanking walls flared up, spinning around in unison as an automated voice called out:

"ATTENTION PERSONNEL. RAILWAY AIRLOCK IS NOW OPENING. PLEASE STAND CLEAR."

That's loud. Tiss winced at the noise, but continued watching eagerly as the door mechanism went to work, slowly but steadily swinging the immense hatch to one side. Tiss observed with bated breath to see what might lie ahead of them – would this be a Sangvis storeroom, full of weapons? A depot for androids? Or maybe a secret lair of some sort, inhabited only by the Ringleader. Despite her pessimism, OTs-12 couldn't help but feel a bit excited. SV-98 had come over, leaning forward the console and watching through the bay windows as the door creaked open.

More railroad lay beyond. More than that OTs-12 couldn't see, since that room was unlit. She pursed her lips, letting that sink in, before rising and taking her AK-12 in her hands.

When they reached the tracks again, a slight wind blew through the now open door, pulling at Tiss's hair. She had done her best to braid it like how she used to, but with only SV-98 to help it was a pain to do and didn't look nearly as good. She had also found a military beret and earmuffs to replace the pair she had lost. The beret was a dark red, something she had found at an abandoned Soviet base and appropriated for their cause, much like their just-too-large fatigues and non-standard weapons. Oh, Tiss wanted her gun back. She still didn't feel whole without it.

"Wow," SV-98 murmured as they walked through the door. The room beyond felt like it was even larger. Tiss swung the flashlight around and found the edge of a platform, as well as a blank television and a pedestrian overpass. Was this some sort of transit hub? The doll went to the edge of the platform and climbed up, helping SV-98 up after her. They both shined their lights around the platform, finding benches, wastebins, old timecharts, and the occasional corpse. Tiss swung the flashlight beam up to find a map – one that matched up with her schematic. Yes, the map did say that there was a transit center here. This map was color-coded, however, and featured several pamphlets in a tray at the bottom. SV-98 pulled one out as Tiss studied the schematics once again.

"Sangvis Ferri, building a bridge to a better tomorrow," the blonde doll read. "Here at our premiere doll production facility in the Ukraine, we work to create the next generation of combat androids…"

Tiss took one of the pamphlets for herself, opening to the catalogue page. It wasn't a complete list, but she searched it anyway. SP721… 65… There was no sign of anything remotely close to the Ringleader that had stolen her voice box. None of the lily white Sangvis shared its black carapace, nor did they feature the same abilities. Maybe this was one of the post-Butterfly models. OTs-12 carefully scoured her memory banks for any recollection of official Griffin information on Ringleaders.

"I guess this place used to be really busy," SV-98 said, breaking into her thoughts. Tiss looked over to see the other doll gazing around the transit center with an oddly melancholic look on her face. She reached over and bumped her on the shoulder.

'Focus,' was all she signed.

"You were the one who zoned out reading a pamphlet."

Tiss smiled a little to appease SV. She then pointed to the map, tapping at an area past the transit hub. It was a large rectangle labeled "SUPPLY DEPOT AND TRANSFER HUB".

'Should head there. Only other way to the surface. Ringleader could be near.'

"That's a ways away." SV-98 continued looking around the transit hub. "We could take a train, they might still be working."

OTs-12 simply shook her head. She was not eager to use one of the trams sitting on the rails. They were loud and conspicuous, and she wasn't even sure if they had power. Someone on the facility had gotten generators running, since the door control console worked, but running a tram was different and Tiss didn't believe that they had the power generation necessary to do so, especially if most of the facility was still unlit.

She wondered what this place had been like, before Butterfly. Had it been just as loud and bustling as the Griffin base?

Tiss plotted out a route in her mind and turned to head back to the rails. SV-98 hesitated, but followed a moment after, exhaling audibly. That sort of behavior was a mimicry of human habits, Tiss reflected. SV-98 was sighing like organics did when they were annoyed or exasperated or disappointed. The silver haired doll was unhappy with how things had gone with SV-98. The sniper had turned toward sadness during their exile, which pained Tiss, who had always known SV as one of the happier dolls in S17. She might not have cared about it so much had they not grown so close. It was only natural, Tiss supposed, that after weeks of being alone they would become more than just fellow soldiers. They could only talk to each other, only ate with each other, only slept with each other, only had each other when something went wrong. They were not the kind of dolls who would inherently get along when alone together, but by nature of their situation such a partnership had arisen.

She's holding up quite well, Tiss thought as she jumped back down onto the rails, looking back at SV-98. It was funny, in a sad way, to think that Tiss had been the one most scared when she first woke up in the cavern, numb and blind. Now she seemed to be the one leading, as she had when she was with Griffin. She still thought of her team every once in a while, when she let her guard down, but Tiss was careful not to let her memories of Griffin surge back. It was dangerous – dangerous with the bug in her Digimind, lurking in the recesses of her neural cloud. Thinking about specifics was just an excuse for it to jump out and attack.

The two of them entered the tunnel. It narrowed considerably, just one track, the concrete walls festooned with thick electrical cables and the occasional unlit light fixture. The close quarters muffled most sound, so the only thing Tiss heard was the occasional rattle from their weapon or backpacks and the scuff of their shoes. She kept her weapon up high, sweeping with the mounted flashlight, but found only dust.

Dust and echoes.

Tiss felt herself overcome with an odd mix of anxiety and depression as they trudged along. They were walking steadily closer to the Ringleader – to the end of their exile, be it in death or victory. Tiss thought long and hard on that. She had already considered death: a quick escape, painless too. A single shot through her core. It was a simpler solution than victory, if that was indeed achieved. The virus would not simply leave her Digimind once the Ringleader was defeated, she believed. Nor would she seamlessly integrate back into Griffin ranks as if nothing had happened. The same went for SV…

Something kept her going, though. It was no one thing. In part, it was her programmed instinct to survive, but it was also a desire to see SV-98 back at Griffin, safe and happy. But another reason pushed her along: the ache to exact vengeance upon the Ringleader. Tiss reached up and rubbed her throat again. She could feel the empty spot where her voice box ought to be. The Ringleader had stolen it. Her voice was with it, squirreled away, and she intended to retrieve it. Silence was a horrible ordeal. Tiss had to sign everything in the simplistic sign language she and SV-98 had made up, unable to say something with a kind or motivational or happy tone. It was worse when they couldn't use Zener. By taking her voice, the Ringleader had robbed Tiss of something she hadn't even realized was so important. That was the reason for the doll's hunt for the Sangvis – she wanted to feel whole again.

Tiss had tried learning how to speak manually, in the beginning. Dolls spoke with the voice box, which was the module which automatically converted thoughts to speech. Humans spoke by propelling air and contorting their mouths, whereas such actions by dolls were just programmed in order to mimic humans. It was difficult for Tiss to actually do that: to propel air up from her air cooling system, through her mouth, and then come up with the right way to move her tongue and lips and jaw to make the sound she wanted. It was a wonder that organics could do it. Tiss had stuck with hand signals after the first few tries.

Something seemed to hit her Digimind and glance off the side. Tiss froze for a moment, unable to move, feeling every artificial muscle and servo in her body tense up. She struggled against it, sending commands to her body, urging it to move, but it was unresponsive. Her Digimind felt constricted, a band tightening around it, one that OTs-12 couldn't break or pull off. SV-98 seemed to notice her inaction and went to her side, placing a hand on the silver-haired doll's shoulder.

"Tiss, what's– what's wrong?"

Get away, Tiss thought, but she could do nothing. Her efforts were focused on her mind, trying to push away that dark presence, to get it out–

And just like that, it was gone, and Tiss had a sudden, startling moment of clarity. She could see the ringleader, see it front of her, yet so far away. One hand stretched out to grab its black, armored arm, the other reaching for her AK-12, but by the time she had pulled the weapon up the Ringleader was gone, disappeared into thin air.

"Tiss!" SV-98 was beside herself with worry, her eyes searching Tiss's face frantically. "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"

A ghost is here. Tiss kept her rifle up, taking a hand off only to tap SV's Mosin. The blonde doll nodded and wordlessly unslung her rifle.

The Ringleader was close. Tiss imagined they would meet it at the end of this tunnel. The prospect excited her, even as a fresh wave of fear washed over her Digimind. Their salvation, or some small part of it, was at hand. It had been too long for Tiss, too long since… since anything had been normal. Her appropriated fatigues were rough against her legs, her rifle didn't fit her body, her earmuffs sat differently on her head. Everything about her reality felt out of place. It was the Ringleader's fault for turning it upside down, but Tiss felt responsible as well. It was her fault, really: her inability to protect her team, to fight the Ringleader, to win. She was supposed to be a capable doll. But she had let everyone down, getting dolls killed or, in SV-98's case, robbed of a life.

They reached a curve in the tunnel. As they turned it, Tiss noticed a light, very faint, shining from the far end. Could that be the end? It must be the depot on the map, she thought. Gestalt would be there. Tiss's core was starting to work faster in anticipation. The light was steady, unwavering, something for Tiss to latch onto as they walked. The end of the tunnel did not seem to draw closer, remaining far away, so far that Tiss started to feel dejected again. They plodded along the tracks, ready and waiting for anything, but there was nothing there save their footsteps.

Tiss's Digimind was raging now, demanding that she pay attention. The Ringleader's presence in her mind was stronger now, more perceivable, and Tiss no longer had to focus to tell how far aways the Sangvis was. It was a curse upon her mind, a reminder of what lay ahead – as if Tiss needed to be reminded.

SV-98 inhaled sharply. "Tisstisstiss–"

Tiss looked up as SV-98 put her cheek to the stock. A form had appeared that blocked the light partially, and it seemed to be running toward them. There weren't many things that could be down here…

Without trying to sign anything, Tiss grabbed SV-98 and pushed her to the side of the tunnel, continuing to follow the tracks. There had to be– yes, there, a service door in a recess in the wall. Tiss shoved SV into the recess and then reached for the door handle. Locked. A stab of fear went through her Digimind as she looked out to see the figure still running, drawing closer to them. She could shoot the lock and see if that did anything, but it was risky. I don't suppose it's a Griffin doll, Tiss thought, then she ducked behind the wall. She and SV had their rifles pointed forward, anticipating a fight, tense like a spring, bristling like a porcupine.

The running footsteps slowed.

Tiss ordered herself to stay focused. Her mind was screaming at her that there was danger, the Ringleader was near, that she had to do something.

She waited.

The clip of metal heels on concrete drew closer. Tiss felt the hard steel of the door against her back. They were totally cornered, vulnerable, and unable to run. The Ringleader was here, right by them. OTs-12 had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but when it had finally arrived, she shied away all the same. Cowardice…

Then, without warning, an echoing crack, stunning Tiss andd nearly making her pull the trigger. Had that come from the end of the tunnel? She looked to SV-98, who was looking back, just as confused. As the gears in her Digimind started turning, the footsteps started running again and another gunshot sounded, resounding for a few seconds after. The Ringleader was drawing closer – if it passed their hiding spot then it would be past them and could run away – Tiss knew the decision she had to make.

Before she could doubt herself again, the doll sprung out from the recess and onto the tracks. Not ten meters away, the black-armored Ringleader ground to a halt. It was still towering, still ominous, still evil in every aspect of its form. Its hands dangled at its sides, hand brushing the grip of its large handgun Tiss's flashlight shone in its mask, illuminated its fake features, and painted the perfect target. She squeezed the trigger, and the Sangvis was suddenly peppered with bullets as Tiss's AK-12 spat fire and lead. SV's Mosin cracked, hitting the Ringleader on the shoulder, but before the two could do anymore, Tiss was charged. A hard shoulder caught her in her chest as the Ringleader bulled into her, throwing her back against the metro wall. Not again. That had gone wrong too fast. Tiss managed to raise her rifle and fire off another burst, but the Sangvis smacked the barrel aside and made to pull the rifle out of her hands. The Mosin cracked first, however, and the Ringleader jumped away as SV chambered another round. Tiss moved to cut off its escape, maybe even drive it back the way it came, firing bursts at it at the same time.

To her surprise, the Ringleader seemed not to be very aggressive. It managed to dodge bullets or simply absorbed them with its armor, but it didn't want to attack. Tiss took it as a sign of weakness and started pushing it, stepping forward, one foot after the other. The Ringleader didn't seem to be looking for a prolonged fight, but OTs-12 was getting her voice box back, no matter what it took.

With a final burst from the AK-12, the Ringleader broke and started running away back down the tunnel. Tiss was shocked, but the retreat only made her more decisive. She beckoned SV-98 forward as the sniper pushed a strip of bullets into her rifle. Move, they had to move–

Another shot echoed down the tunnel, punctuated with the crack of concrete. Tiss sidestepped to the right instinctively, searching for where the shot had come from. Was the Ringleader shooting back at them? Or perhaps there's someone else here. A Griffin team, a hunter-killer squadron. That would make sense. The Ringleader would be trapped between the Griffin T-dolls and Tiss, with nowhere to run.

The concrete was hard under their feet as they pursued.

This is it, Tiss told herself.

She put a fresh magazine into her rifle and racked the bolt.

The Ringleader was moving faster, pulling away from Tiss and SV-98. It had produced a large handgun, firing forward – that had been the nearby shots she had heard earlier – and was drawing steadily closer to the end of the tunnel. The light was getting brighter, and she could see the depot ahead.

OTs-12 rubbed her neck.

They were almost out of the tunnel. The light was blinding now, her eyes still adjusting to the change.

More gunshots echoed.

This was it.


	36. The Confrontation

Gestalt's thrust deflected off the concrete floor as StG 44 rolled to avoid it just in time. Staggering from the lunge, the Ringleader was in the right spot for StG to place a few bursts into its flank. It attacked again, bringing its arm-mounted spike up from the floor in a swing that StG barely managed to duck. The Griffin doll backed away, letting Type 79 move in instead to distract Gestalt. She was better at dodging and led the Ringleader on a chase around the floor, pulling her away from the others.

"44, stay close," Tokarev reminded, jogging past StG. The uniformed doll nodded to herself before running forward, throwing the stock up against her shoulder before she squeezed, the trigger, sending a _chak-chak-chak_ of bullets down at Gestalt as she ran. Type 79's muzzle flash seared the shadowy image of the Ringleader in StG's mind. She went to fire again but waited as Type 79 got in close once more. The Sangvis was shrugging off most of their fire, and so far only StG had been lucky enough to hit it at one of the weak gaps in its armor. Type 79 started backpedaling as StG rejoined the battle.

Sensing the change in attackers, Gestalt stood a little taller as it locked on to StG. Its mask was staring at her, daring her to come forward.

So she did.

The spike ripped past StG, tearing at her jacket. She responded by shooting a strip of bullets up its torso, most of which _pinged_ off or embedded themselves in its jet black armor. StG raised her sights and managed to nail the Ringleader in the head, stopping its next attack short. But before she could back away and slam a new magazine in her weapon, her adversary had recovered and was coming at her again. StG emptied the rest of her magazine and dropped it, taking a fresh one in her hand before the old had even hit the ground. The point of Gestalt's spike came within a hair's breadth of her stomach as she leaned back.

"Firing!"

Every other sound in the depot was made small as NTW-20's weapon fired, the bullet crossing from one side of the room to the other, passing through the side of the Ringleader's abdomen in an instant. Gestalt started to back away –

"44! STAY ON IT!"

Type 79 was running toward them, but StG was closest. She sprinted, charged the Ringleader as its hand fell for its hip, black fingers wrapping around the large-bore pistol resting there. They had stopped it from using the weapon so far, but if it took it out… StG's burst stung its hand, and then they were back in the close-in struggle for dominance. This was not like the animalistic struggle that had been the fight with FAMAS. Gestalt moved with exact movements, calculated and instant. StG was forced to focus all her efforts on simply dodging its attacks. NTW-20's shot seemed to have had little effect on the Ringleader. _How is that possible?_ Most enemies were felled with a single shot… but this one was shockingly resilient.

StG 44 let off a final burst as Type 79 took her spot once again. Tokarev was crouched in cover, eyes unnaturally wide. _Targeting_. NTW-20 was using Tokarev as a secondary pair of eyes to keep a visual on Gestalt. It was a unique handgun-rifle relationship. StG shot off a round over Tokarev's head that caught the Ringleader in the small of its back, making it pause – just as NTW-20 fired again, the shot skimming Gestalt's moulded, artificial clavicle and leaving a long, shallow scar. Tokarev made a sound of surprise and disappointment. _That was supposed to hit_.

Gestalt must have been able to dodge the shot. And if it was able to do that–

"NTW! CHANGE POSITION!" StG virtually shouted over Zener. The sniper, perched on a crate far in the back of the depot, broke from her position with lightning speed. Gestalt was just as fast, though, shoving Type 79 back with a sharp punch, pulling its pistol with one hand, pointing it in NTW's direction, and pulling the trigger.

The handgun erupted with a bright flash and _crack_, and StG felt a pain over Zener, a mere echo of what NTW had felt. Gestalt had _hit?_ At that range?

Without thinking, StG whipped back around and laid on the trigger, peppering the Ringleader with 7.92 Kurz. Gestalt raised its handgun again, firing just as StG scrambled behind a shipping crate. The metal took the projectiles, barely, and before Gestalt could shoot again, StG popped out and fired a burst, catching the Ringleader off guard and buying Type 79 enough time to rush Gestalt and strike at its gun hand, knocking its aim off. Tokarev's wide-eyed stare followed it, and moments after, NTW-20's shot came again, this time deliberately catching Gestalt's hand and blowing it and the pistol clean off.

The Ringleader replied by swinging its spike at the retreating Type 79, who was just barely out of range. StG dashed forward and kicked the pistol away, bracing herself to take a hit in return–

But nothing came. Instead, Gestalt was running away, back toward where Hunter had fought FAMAS, toward the door. NTW did not even have to shout an order for the other three to leap into action, pursuing Gestalt as it bolted for an escape. StG looked back to see NTW-20 leaping from shipping container to shipping container as she struggled to keep line of sight, coolant flowing from her leg. Gestalt disappeared around the corner of a crate, and everyone temporarily lost sight of it.

"79, 44, I want both of you on it this time," NTW-20 ordered. "No quarter."

StG felt a surge of pride and excitement and programmed adrenaline coursing through her Digimind all at once. "Consider it done!"

A pulse ran through Zener, a virtual chuckle from Type 79. It was a shaky emotion, and betrayed the doll as being worried. They were all worried, they had never fought a Ringleader like this. _And never without FAMAS_.

They came around the container to see Gestalt crouched over the French doll's corpse. The body was missing a hand, the filthy, coolant-covered stump of her arm disgorging ruby red liquid across the concrete floor. Gestalt looked up with what StG almost felt was a guilty look – impossible, it didn't have a proper face – and started running again.

"44, take left! I'll pursue!"

StG broke to the left, threading her way through crates as Type 79 ran directly after Gestalt. The Ringleader was going back towards where they had fought earlier. Tokarev kept pace with them as they dogged the Sangvis.

"It's going for the pistol," Type 79 stated matter-of-factly. StG escaped the narrow confines of the crates and brought her weapon up just as Gestalt leapt for the hand cannon. Her rifle pumped out rounds that cracked the concrete around the pistol, but failed to deter the Ringleader. It dove for the weapon, scooping it up and aiming.

"EVADE!"

The pistol thundered, but the SMG doll was fast, running up and into the Sangvis's face and jamming her barrel close. StG charged in as the two struggled, Type 79 barely managing to hold Gestalt's ferocious metal spike back. The blonde doll rushed the Ringleader and grabbed the pistol, pulling hard. To her surprise, its grip was loose, and StG stumbled back from her momentum and fell to the ground with the pistol in her grip. Gestalt used the opportunity to knee Type 79 in the stomach, then shoved her back.

StG still had the pistol in her hand. She turned it on Gestalt, feeling the rough scoring of the trigger under her index finger, and pulled.

The trigger caught. _Safety_. But there was no selector on the blocky frame. _Coded to Gestalt's signal_–

It was coming at her. StG tossed the pistol and made to pull her rifle up, but the Ringleader was too close. It batted the barrel aside and reached for her throat, wrapping its hard, armored fingers around her neck and gripping tight. StG's rifle dangled from one hand, her other reaching for the Ringleader's claw, trying to find purchase, trying to pull it away – she was _not_ getting killed again, not by a Ringleader, not like this. Hot rage burned through her, anger at her helplessness. For the first time, StG caught sight of a knife handle sticking out from under its arm. Had someone else fought Gestalt before Hunter? _Maybe Ingram, the one with the knife._ The thought of the berserker T-doll she knew in S09 was stuck in StG's Digimind as she felt the artificial skin around her neck starting to break.

Then she swung her rifle up and fired a burst at point-blank range. Gestalt let out a guttural screech, its grip loosening enough for StG to pull its hand off and drop to the ground. Gestalt instead seized the doll around her torso, lifted, and threw StG back.

She hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact and get back on her feet. Tokarev joined the fray, her shots sparking off Gestalt's armor. Type 79 was sparring with Gestalt again, barely managing to match each blow with a block. Their metal hands clashed in a hard meeting of steel, then 79 raised a foot and kicked the Ringleader square in the stomach. The armor plating buckled a little at the strike, and Gestalt broke off and backed away.

"Where's the pistol?" Tokarev asked

"My left," 79 replied. The handgun doll scurried to pick it up. Gestalt was retreating, knowing that it had lost that confrontation. Hunter had to move fast.

StG made eye contact with her teammate. The two exchanged a subtle nod, a pair of warriors making ready for another bout. With weapons raised they began to advance, marching forward, two arbiters of Griffin, let loose on Gestalt. When the Ringleader came, they would be ready; when they were tested again, they would pass with flying colors. It was now that StG truly felt ready for combat, even craved it. She felt… emboldened.

NTW-20's bolt racked, the big doll's footsteps shadowing the others' movements as she kept a distanced pace with them atop the shipping crates. Tokarev was close too, shoes clicking on the concrete.

"Keep it occupied, no respite, no openings."

StG checked her magazine. _Half capacity._ She still had three full magazines of ammunition left. "Three and half. 79?"

"I've got plenty," the SMG replied, checking her own magazine. They swept their barrels about, waiting for Gestalt to pop back out at any moment. A shadow of a presence swept over the Zener network – NTW-20 scanning for any Sangvis viruses, a precaution after FAMAS. Gestalt could infect any of them with Parapluie.

"Transponder ping, Griffin IFF detected," Tokarev reported. "It's – no…"

_It's Tiss_, StG guessed. "Where? Where is it?!"

"Left, forward left–"

StG swung her barrel over and squeezed the trigger as Gestalt materialized from between two crates, spike raised, barreling down on the Griffin dolls. Tokarev yelped in surprise as Type 79's weapon joined the bark of StG's, deflecting off Gestalt's armor in a bell-like pinging. At the last moment StG sidestepped the Sangvis's charge, but the side of the spike swung sideways and slammed her in the side. Type 79 ducked a strike and held the Ringleader at bay while StG recovered and ran back in, sending a scattered burst of furious bullets into Gestalt's back.

"CLEAR!"

StG reeled back at the last moment, getting out of the way before NTW-20 fired. The rifle's shot went clean through Gestalt's left thigh, leaving a gaping hole. The Ringleader seemed unfazed, striking Type 79 across the chest with its spike, ripping her weapon out of her hands with one swift stroke. The doll dove for the weapon, but the Ringleader was quicker, kicking it away and catching 79 out of position all at the same time.

"No!" Tokarev ran forward, firing off shot after shot, at the same time StG launched herself into Gestalt, throwing her shoulder underneath its arm and pushing up. The Ringleader was _heavy_, but she succeeded in getting it off balance enough that another hard shove pushed both it and StG to the ground. The Griffin doll landed on top, but before she could do anything, Gestalt was ramming its fist in her gut, shoving StG off. She rolled to avoid the spike right as it crashed down, taking the chance to grab Type 79's weapon off the ground. Gestalt climbed to its feet as she did, and StG tossed the SMG to its owner as another _crack_ rent the air, and Gestalt contorted itself.

"Move again, it's got you figured out," StG said to NTW just as she resumed the assault, squeezing the trigger and wondering, vainly, if maybe this time she'd get lucky.

Gestalt merely ignored the rounds and surged forward. Tokarev was its target this time, and she was totally unprepared as the Ringleader spitted her almost effortlessly, lifting the doll off her feet.

"_Hurrrrrrrrk–"_

"ON IT, NOW!"

But before they could take advantage of its lack of movement, Gestalt had pulled Tokarev off the spike and turned around, meeting their attack head on. StG barely had time to react as the tip of the weapon roared by her head. NTW-20 fired again, but Gestalt was rampaging. Type 79 seemed pushed to the limit as the Ringleader set upon her with unbridled ferocity, pulling her gun out of her grip and sweeping across with the spike, knocking the doll to the ground.

"44!" NTW-20 thundered, and StG lowered her rifle and sprinted forward. Type 79 held her arms up in a futile gesture of self-defense as Gestalt drew its spike back, ready to plunge the tip forward. StG abandoned any sense of self-preservation and plowed forward, ready to slam into Gestalt–

–only for it to twist at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the charge and letting a shocked StG run right past it. The blonde doll stumbled to a halt and twisted around, rifle raised, but it was too late. Gestalt drove the spike forward, lancing Type 79 through the chest. The doll seized the spike with both hands, but with a twist of the weapon, Gestalt shattered her core, and 79 went limp.

Sturmgewehr squeezed the trigger and held her finger down. Gestalt hesitated at _that_, at least, unable or unwilling to move forward. The Griffin doll felt a hint of exacted revenge from that. Revenge for 79.

Then her magazine ran empty.

The Ringleader turned to face StG. Its hand – the one NTW-20 had shot off – had been supplanted. FAMAS's pale hand had taken its place, jammed onto Gestalt's stump and fused to it with whatever unknown technology Sangvis employed. The green-lacquered fingernails shone in the light as StG stared her adversary down. The acrid odor of coolant and nitroglycerin hung in the air. StG became acutely aware of the shape of her weapon's grip through her glove. The sight post was on Gestalt, ready, but she had no rounds to fire.

StG pressed the mag release and grabbed a magazine. Gestalt sprang forward, and StG leapt to the side. The Ringleader caught her with its other hand as it rushed by, however, knocking her off balance. Its footsteps slowed, then reversed. StG knew what came next. But even as the Ringleader beared down on her, she slammed a new magazine in, and raised her rifle.

A 20mm round caught Gestalt in its stomach, and then NTW-20 was next to StG. The doll's pink hair waved behind her as she ran forward.

"NTW–"

No, it was useless. The pink-haired doll already had her mind set: they had come here to kill the Ringleader, and NTW did not intend on leaving the job unfinished. Her rifle discharged again, glancing off Gestalt's shoulder, then, on an empty mag, NTW took the gun by its barrel and hefted it like a long bat. She swung with speed and precision, the decisiveness of an expert. Gestalt's flank buckled under the impact, armor bent out of shape. NTW-20 threw the gun aside before the Ringleader could take it.

One-two-three, Gestalt's chained strikes were dodged nearly effortlessly by NTW. The doll retaliated with a gloved fist to the Sangvis's midsection, followed by a flurry of blows that drove the Ringleader back. Each of the Griffin doll's attacks was perfectly executed, fighting skills honed by years of training and experience. She and Gestalt were excellent sparring partners, even if they aimed to kill. They blocked a strike with one hand even as the other moved to attack, all in the span of a few moments.

It was a battle between elites.

"44. Get out of here. Get help." NTW-20's voice over Zener was oddly calm.

"But–"

"No time for pride. Do it." Then she disconnected from the network. A knife appeared in NTW-20's hand, and she turned to slashing and stabbing at the Ringleader, aiming for the gaps in its armor plate. StG watched in awe for just one more moment before picking herself up and starting to run. The staccato tap of footsteps and dull impact of synthetic flesh on hard armor were the only thing to remind StG that there was a duel happened as she lost sight of her team leader, running past a crate toward the stairs.

Help. She had to get help.

––––––––

"Third time's the charm, right, SASS?"

"Right."

_Overpowered. Need assistance. NTW engaged._ That was what the transmission had said.

SASS's body was already in overdrive as they rushed down the stairs. RFB was up top, providing overwatch – Rose and Chrysanthemum had dispersed into the forest – while the other four members of Grizzly pounded down the concrete steps, into the belly of the beast. M590 was racking the pump on her shotgun and inserting slugs to replace the buckshot while Ingram muttered excitedly. Grizzly was mostly silent, doing her best to break the atmosphere of dread around the party. They had gone to assist Hunter because they were the closest, still lingering in the factory when StG's garbled transmission made it through the concrete.

"590, Ingram, we'll take this thing head-on while SASS provides overwatch. Remember, stay moving, keep your eyes on it. Don't let it retreat into the shadows like it did last time."

"Are the other teams going to follow us in?"

"Yes, as soon as they get back. Throne's been informed too."

"The cordon?"

"Closing in…"

They stepped out of the stairwell abruptly and through an open doorway. SASS nearly ran into Grizzly's back as the doll came to a sudden stop, turning off her flashlight.

"Light on the other side," she said, pointing to the bottom of the door. It was true: a thin strip of light shone through the gap. The echelon leader and M590 looked to each other and nodded.

"SASS, Ingram, step back. Follow us when we breach."

"Grizzly and M590 are going serious mode," Ingram whispered to SASS. "That always means that stuff's about to get fun."

SASS said nothing, instead reaching down to check her knife sheath. The blade had not inexplicably reappeared since the last time she checked, doubtlessly still stuck in the Ringleader. Her purpose here was twofold: save her senpai and the rest of Hunter, and reclaim her weapon.

M590 leveled her barrel at the door as Grizzly reached across, turned the handle, and pulled it open. The shotgun doll advanced through, shields facing forward, as Grizzly followed behind, then SASS, then Ingram. Their barrels swept around, looking for a target. The room beyond was a large depot, crates scattered about. SASS stowed her flashlight and turned off her night-vision, eyes flicking back and forth as she assessed the room. Like in every other encounter, it was the perfect spot for Gestalt. Even with the ceiling lights activated, there was still a great deal of shadow to conceal itself in, as well as all the crates for cover.

A single handwave from Grizzly was met with a subtle nod from M590. The two slowed their pace, quieting their footsteps, and everyone started to listen. That shift of a boot on concrete, constant irregular tapping–

It was close, but moving away. Grizzly bounded forward with everyone else in tow, a knot of worry forming in SASS's mind as she thought on what they might find.

"Hey, look."

"It's Type 79…"

Each of them looked at the doll as they walked by. SASS knew from her time working cleanup after the raid that the hole in her chest was Gestalt's work. Fragments of the core glimmered in the light, scarlet coolant slowly drying on her jacket. Discarded magazines littered the ground everywhere they walked, hundreds of brass shell casings shimmering up at them. SASS spied a couple that were 20mm.

"Tokarev too." M590 pointed her barrel toward the white-clothed corpse, looking all the world like a fallen biblical angel. She too had a hole through her, a red stain spreading on her clothes around it. SASS forced herself to stare at it, forced herself to commit it to memory. Like the corpses in Doll Services, it was a grisly reminder of what lay ahead, of what failure meant. She tightened her grip, felt the textured grip in her hand. She had felt that grip for a long time. It was quite familiar.

Ingram was excited. She was twitching in every direction, clearly itching for a fight, more than usual. It was doubtless because she wanted a second showdown with the Ringleader, after she lost the last one. SASS was wanting too. She just hoped that Ingram's eagerness didn't get in the way.

_There's that noise again._ Grizzly seemed to hear it too, and picked up her pace. Everyone followed, weaving through shipping crates, sometimes single file, as they drew closer and closer to it. They all knew what it could be. What it most likely was. SASS admired the others for being able to charge into peril with not a second of hesitation. It came with being experienced, she supposed. How else could someone be so self-assured, even in the face of defeat and death?

There was a loud report, then a burst of fully automatic fire. Someone shouted – "LEFT!" – then another report, another burst.

When SASS burst out from the crates behind Grizzly and M590, she was greeted with a duel.

StG hit Gestalt hard across the head with the stock of her rifle. Nearly unperturbed by the strike, Gestalt hit back with a blow to the Griffin doll that sent her flying. But before the Sangvis could set upon her any more, two familiar figures emerged from behind it and opened fire, knocking the enemy off balance and forcing it away from StG.

"Open fire!" Grizzly shouted. There was a loud _crack_ as M590 fired a slug, then racked her shotgun. Grizzly's pistol spat fire as she squeezed the trigger again and again. Ingram wasted no time in rushing forward, but a split second later Grizzly sent a loaded halt command over the network, forcing Ingram to hang back before she got herself killed. "SASS!"

"Yes!" The sniper hurried forward and put her eye to her scope, finding the Ringleader and firing. The shot missed, and Gestalt slipped out of her sight, behind a container.

"Ah, shit. Ingram, check on StG!"

The doll actually growled in displeasure, but nevertheless ran to the felled member of Hunter. Grizzly and M590 advanced, SASS close behind. The two girls who had entered seemed to still be pursuing Gestalt, firing off shots on occasion. Grizzly waved an arm as the three approached.

"Hey, hey! Quit looking, it's gone!"

"Grizzly!" M590 said sharply. "It's not that simple!"

"Oh, like hell it isn't. I thought we were backing up Hunter, not replacing them. We're not here to take out a Ringleader–"

"Leave."

It was the blond-haired girl who had been helping StG, and, SASS realized, the same one they had seen in the forest.

"What? No, it's you who has to–"

"LEAVE!"

With nary a glance back, the two started running again, toward the far side of the depot that Gestalt had disappeared by. M590 turned to Grizzly, and SASS caught the pained look on her face. The two seemed to have a silent argument, a split second of myriad facial expressions, then Grizzly whipped her head around.

"Keep a cool head, and we'll come out of it alive. SASS–"

She gave the sniper's shoulder a quick pat.

"You're good. Ingram!"

"StG's core is fine, but the body is pretty beat up," said the submachine gun doll, jogging back toward the others. "Where'd those two go? To the fight?"

"Yes. And we are too, so let's go."

They moved out, following the path that the two dolls had taken. SASS knew for sure who they were – OTs-12 and SV-98, two of the dolls declared MIA after that incident in the forest. It had been so long ago, so how had they survived over a month without help? _They must be tougher than I remember hearing._

Where was NTW-20? The question went through her mind over and over again, taking her attention from anything else. Where had she gone?

They caught sight of Tiss ahead, the two dolls looking over the crates carefully as they stepped down the row of containers. SASS was looking too, looking for pink hair, looking for any sign of _senpai_. M590 had her plates behind, shielding her back, while Grizzly and Ingram were walking in a defensive posture, watching each others' blind spots.

"Remember, don't get speared," Grizzly reminded them.

_Don't get speared…_

Their shadows shifted around on the floor as they passed under one after another of the big ceiling lights. It made SASS flinch to see the black spot on the floor following her, changing position, barely noticeable out of the corner of her eye.

So when something came out from between two of the containers, SASS had to glance a second time before she leapt out of the way. Gestalt's lunge carried it past her, the Ringleader halting itself and spinning around on a dime. SASS backpedaled furiously, bringing her rifle up as the other three turned, raised their weapons, and rushed. Gestalt appeared momentarily indecisive, but was given no time to choose. M590's slug hit it square in the side of its chest, making a satisfying _thuck _and forcing Gestalt to take action.

The Ringleader decided to go forward. Swinging with its spike, it succeeded in making M590 back up, but as it swung its weapon back, another attacker joined instead. Ingram popped up and plunged her knife into the armor gap by its waist, wrenching it to the right an effort to cut through. Gestalt kneed Ingram in the crotch to throw her off balance before wedging an arm between itself and the Griffin doll. Ingram wrapped both hands around the knife, ready to be shoved away, but before the Ringleader could do anything else Grizzly was hanging around its neck.

"Come on, Ingram! Cut it!"

Ingram grinned wickedly, pushing the knife again, trying to cut through whatever she could. Gestalt stumbled backwards, thrown off balance, and reaching behind its head. Grizzly grunted as the Ringleader found her arms. SASS saw her leader get pulled off and thrown forward, knocking M590 to the ground while Ingram danced away, knife back in her hand.

"We'll take it together," SASS said, glancing at Ingram. The doll nodded firmly.

"Your move first."

SASS quickly raised her weapon and fired off a few shots at Gestalt. Two of her bullets went wide, but the third found its mark, hitting Gestalt's hip but bouncing off. The Ringleader ran forward again, making for SASS, but Ingram jumped in to distract it, letting rip with her submachine gun and landing a line of fire up its torso. Distracted, Gestalt went for Ingram instead, trying to snatch the weapon from her grip, but Ingram stepped back fast, leading the Ringleader away and opening its back up for SASS to fire again, a quick one–two on its back.

Its mask turned toward SASS and it swung the spike, the doll just barely managing to dodge by falling backwards. Ingram attacked again to draw the Ringleader's attention, letting SASS scramble to her feet. The Sangvis swung one, twice, thrice, the third catching Ingram on her calf as she leapt away, causing the doll to nearly fall. Gestalt brandished the spike and SASS felt its attention on her once more. She immediately retreated, just in time for Tiss to come to a halt in front of Gestalt.

The Ringleader jerked the spike around instantly. Tiss dodged the strike by moving forward – directly against Gestalt, safe from the spike. With surprising strength she hooked a leg behind the Ringleader's and pulled its leg out, toppling the enemy before it could react. Tiss backed away and raised her AK-12 as SV-98 stopped and brought her own rifle to bear. Before it could so much as swing its spike, the two opened fire, forcing the Ringleader to crawl away.

"Keep on it!" Grizzly shouted as she got up, starting after the retreating Sangvis. M590 followed close behind, back into the maze of shipping crates, and the others followed right after. SASS shoved her apprehension down and went after them.

There was a shot, then another, as Grizzly fired at the Ringleader. SASS's feet pounded the pavement, her core overdrive setting her mind wild with anxiety and the thrill of combat. They were far enough away that they could not draw a bead on Gestalt before it managed to duck behind a container or go around the corner. SASS was waiting for a time when they turned and it was waiting for them – but no such moment came. Gradually, they slowed their pursuit and stepped back out into the open, forming a jagged defensive circle. SV-98 turned to her partner, who, SASS noticed, had her eyes closed once more.

"Radio?" Grizzly asked.

"Nothing," M590 replied, "besides static. We're on our own, I'd say."

"Great."

"It's still around here." SV-98 suddenly joined the circle with Tiss, shoving new rounds into her Mosin-Nagant. "Close. But… not engaging."

"Well, I'm fine waiting." For once, Grizzly chose not to rush in. SASS bit at her lip before she spoke up.

"Grizzly, I think we need to go after it. We can't let it get away, waiting just gives it more time."

"Rushing in is what got Hunter torn apart. We should–"

"No!" SASS shouted, turning to face her leader. "No! We can't wait any longer! It will get us killed, and just because you're scared of dying again doesn't mean we shouldn't do our best to finish what senpai started!"

Grizzly gave her subordinate a funny look. "You mean NTW-20? If the vaunted Hunter Squadron couldn't finish off Gestalt, then you'll pardon me if I'm not too optimistic about our own chances. I'd like to get the team back alive, and just because you feel like having a moment–"

"Grizzly," M590 warned.

"No, I'll finish! SASS can take some hurt feelings when I'm trying to keep her alive."

"I don't want to _live!_" the doll returned, feeling hot anger. "I want to fight! I want to do the right thing, not run!"

"You don't get a choice in this." Grizzly's voice was low, coercive. "We've leaving. SV-98, Tiss? What about you?"

But before the blonde could reply for them, a shadow dropped down behind her.

"THERE!" Grizzly yelled in alarm. SV-98 dodged Gestalt's attempt to grab her by the neck, throwing herself to the side as the rest of the panicked group raised their rifles and fired. Gestalt managed to evade the first burst of bullets, ripping Grizzly's handgun straight out of her grip and knocking the doll to the floor with a punch to the head. SASS turned and ran, nearly tripping over herself as she did.

"Ingram, where are you?!"

The submachine gun doll had gotten some sense and followed her for ten paces or so, then stopped. SASS turned, finger on the trigger. SV-98 had been shoved away, her rifle on the floor, while Tiss and M590 beat a hasty retreat. _Cover them, quick_. SASS raised her weapon again, found Gestalt, fired and hit. The Ringleader shrugged off the round, intent on running down its prey. Tiss pulled ahead of the heavier shotgun doll, and in the last second before Gestalt pounced, M590 threw herself to the ground with her shields covering her torso.

Gestalt set upon the slabs of metal with the same ferocity it did everything else. Both hands, one black metal, one pale white synthflesh, found purchase on the shields and pulled. Just as the thought went through her mind – _that's the perfect way to–_ M590's slug knocked its left leg right out from underneath it, and the Ringleader fell heavily on top of the shotgun doll's shields. The metal creaked, barely holding, but just long enough for the doll to rack the pump and fire again. SASS saw a wave of sparks shower the ground. M590 had succeeded in catching Gestalt at a disadvantage.

That was the end of it for Ingram. SASS knew how intent the doll was about chasing that battle high, and she knew that whatever limited self-control she had was worth nothing here. As Gestalt rolled off of M590 and struggled to its feet, legs irreversibly damaged, Ingram attacked. She had her knife in one hand, her gun in the other, and the Ringleader hardly had time to produce its spike before she was on it. Her knife pinged off the midriff, her weapon echoed around the depot, and she pushed Gestalt back. SASS followed, entranced by the fight, genuinely wondering who the winner might be, but M590 had other ideas.

"INGRAM, CUT IT OUT!"

_It didn't go well last time,_ SASS reminded herself and stopped walking. Tiss, however, ran after Ingram. Gestalt was still retreating, only caring to parry Ingram's blows, but the doll persisted. Finally, Gestalt made an attack of its own, thrusting at Ingram, but the doll dodged it and emptied her magazine into Gestalt's already damaged knee, knocking to the ground. Ingram let out a maniacal laugh, discarding her gun and taking her knife in both hands, ready to thrust. SASS and M590 jogged forward behind Tiss. The silver-haired doll reached out to Ingram, apparently wanting her to stop, but it was too late. Ingram stabbed.

SASS should have seen it coming. Gestalt's arm reached up and redirected the blade, which just scratched its mask, as the other arm reached up and seized Ingram by the throat. The doll tried to jerk away, but the Ringleader's grip was strong, and it slowly got to its feet as Ingram struggled feebly. SASS wanted to reach out, to pull Ingram down, but before she got within ten steps there was a loud _snap_ and Ingram went limp. Gestalt dropped the body and lurched forward on its bad leg, swinging its spike down upon M590.

_BRAAAAAAANG_

The shield held, but Gestalt was faster than the shotgun doll. The spike swung around and swept her legs out from underneath her, and with one swift strike the Ringleader had put the doll down permanently. Gestalt wrested the shotgun out from her death grasp and leveled it at Tiss, pulling the trigger before the silver-haired doll could get a shot off. She crumpled to the ground.

Gestalt turned to face SASS. A long scrape ran along one leg where the slug had grazed it, while the other had a mess of bent metal and exposed wiring where there once was a knee. The arm hung loose, tip of the spike nearly scraping the floor SASS's eyes roved over the Ringleader's visage, its face marred with dents and scrapes from bullets. She saw the knife hilt under its arm.

The sniper snapped her weapon up into her shoulder and squeezed the trigger as many times as she could before Gestalt was upon her. The Ringleader tore the weapon out of her grip and reached for the doll's neck. SASS rushed forward instead of backing away, evading the grab and quickly grasping the knife handle. A sharp pull and the blade came free, shocking Gestalt enough for SASS to push its arm off and back away.

The handle was quite reassuring, and she flipped the knife to hold it in a stabbing grip . Gestalt seemed wary, like it had seen this before, and got into a hunched posture. SASS struggled to stop herself from attacking instinctively, telling herself that she had to wait. An opportunity would present itself, even if it offered just the slightest improvement of her chances.

The Ringleader's nasty spike was gone. SASS, through her overdrive and anxiety and fear, could not help but notice how strange it was for Gestalt to be resorting to a fight like this. Perhaps, contrary to the impression that Griffin had, it did indeed have a personality, an ego…

It lashed out, but halted its strike right after SASS flinched to intercept it. _A test. _She remembered, with increasing fear, how NTW had told her not to lose the first strike. There was no recovering from it. SASS had a faster reaction to the next probing strike, nearly making contact with Gestalt's hand before it pulled it back. There was an exchange of strikes, Gestalt effortlessly blocking SASS's while the Griffin doll struggled to halt the hammer-like blows of the Ringleader. It straightened up, readying itself for a heavy strike, and that was when SASS saw her chance. She kicked, Gestalt's arm flinched and it moved to intercept, and then SASS snatched Gestalt's wrist and buried the blade in its exposed elbow. A single, forceful twist–

–and the arm fell away. SASS went for the throat, just like before, but with a heart-rending scrape, it deflected off the armor. Gestalt's remaining arm pushed SASS to the ground, losing her grip on her knife and getting pinned by the Ringleader. Her hands slipped on the armor as she tried to push the Sangvis off, her struggle feeble against her adversary's superior weight. Gestalt leaned down, its hand curling around the back of SASS's neck, taking a decidedly fatal grip. The pressure on her spinal cord increased, causing a deep pain that pierced every inch of her body, and SASS was struck with a deep sense of fear. She would die here, and this time there was no NTW-20 to save her. _Senpai, where did you go…_

A white hand wrapped around Gestalt's face, and the Ringleader suddenly released its grip and tried to reach what was on its back. SASS was still pinned, but she saw her rifle just a few feet away – if she just reached for it! She stretched her arm out as Gestalt twisted and turned to get to its attacker. SASS saw a flash of white hair: was it _Tiss?_ Gestalt jerked to one side, letting out a frightening mechanical screech. There was a glint of light on a polished edge, then Tiss sank the knife into Gestalt's neck, bending it savagely until the armor was pried up. She reached in with the blade, jerked it back, and Gestalt suddenly pitched forward, hitting the ground next to SASS and beginning to twitch erratically.

With some effort, SASS rolled over, pushing herself up and gulping in air. She reached around to her neck and felt where Gestalt had gripped it. The damaged spine was easy to feel, as well as the bruised skin. To her left, Tiss was straddling the Ringleader. Gestalt was still alive, but only its arm appeared to be working, scrabbling against the concrete. SASS flinched away from it as the hand – a doll's hand with green-painted fingernails stretched out in an attempt to grab onto SASS's wrist.

Tiss dropped the knife and brought her AK-12 out, bashing the Ringleader's face with the stock. SASS stood and backed away from the hand, which still reached, fingers opening and closing. The stock continued to pound, a steady _thak… thak… thak_.

The mask suddenly bent in and popped off. SASS walked over to Tiss warily, peering down. Behind the simple, expressionless face was a mess of wires and electrical components, looking like the delicate fibres of human muscle, exposed to the light. SASS turned the mask over with her toe. It was just a formed piece of metal, nothing more, and a close inspection yielded a product number stamped on the inside. _SP867. _To think that Gestalt had once been an item in the Sangvis Ferri catalogue.

Gestalt's mangled head tried weakly to rise, the mass of wires that made up its new "face" flopping about. Tiss held the head to the floor with one hand while the other picked the knife back up and started cutting away at the Ringleader's exposed components.

"Careful," SASS said, disturbed by the image. "You shouldn't touch it."

Tiss shook her head, then began sawing with the knife. Gestalt's spasms intensified for a moment before it went still, and Tiss grinned, self-satisfied. She worked with the knife a little more before pulling it back out, inspecting the blade.

"It's mine," SASS volunteered. Tiss looked up at her, then nodded and held it out to SASS. She took the blade and inspected it tenderly, noting the new marks on the flat. _Battle scars._ She would have to tell NTW-20 about that.

NTW-20!

Without a word to Tiss, SASS took off, running away from the corpse. NTW could be anywhere in the piles of shipping crates, sitting quiet, perhaps already dead.

"NTW!"

Her voice echoed through the depot. If she was dead… if she was _dead…_

"SENPAI!"

SASS turned and delved in between the crates, looking back and forth as she passed intersections. There was only dust and a single decayed human corpse. The doll flinched – had she heard something? Was that NTW? Another crate, another empty spot. SASS sprinted across the open floor to another area, peering around every corner frantically. Where was she?!

Finally, after what felt like half an hour of searching, she saw the tip of a black shoe peeking out from around the corner of a crate. SASS ran for it, slowing down only when she reached the edge. Her core pulsed with excitement and worry, and she felt it spike as she looked around the corner.

NTW-20's pink eyes looked back up at her. The doll was sitting down against the crate, holding herself up with one hand while the other rested on a stump where her lower left leg had been. Coolant dribbled out onto the floor, the flow staunched by her sailor uniform's flap collar tied around the thigh.

"Hey SASS."

"S-senpai, you–"

"Don't bother," the doll said, waving her pupil away as SASS knelt down by her. "I, uh… I don't think this body will last much longer. I should be put on level III before the core overheats."

"But, you–"

"Is the Ringleader dead? Gestalt?"

"Yeah. It is."

"That's good."

NTW-20 gulped and looked SASS up and down.

"Glad to see you made it. It certainly did a number on me. I wasn't really expecting it to be so ferocious. Ringleaders don't always have a… survival instinct. My leg, it speared it, so I had to amputate the rest so the nanites didn't spread," she added, accurately interpreting SASS's questioning glance. "I lost too much coolant, though."

SASS frowned. "No, no. We can get you out. You can't lose a body."

She was rebuffed by a derisive snort. "This wouldn't be the first time I've lost a body. Pull my core, that's all I'll need."

"I don't know how!"

"I can walk you through it, but let's make it quick. First, put your hand on my left breast."

SASS bit her lip, then reached out. NTW broke into a chuckle.

"I'm kidding! I'll activate the emergency access protocol, you just need to remove the core."

"Senpai, you shouldn't joke like that." SASS closed her eyes, finding herself feeling… weak. She reached out and placed a hand on NTW's head, shifting position so she was a little closer.

"What are you doing?"

SASS chewed on her lip to distract herself from the synthetic tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want you to die in front of me."

"I'm not dying, SASS. I'm not dying."

NTW took one hand and pulled her shirt up, then waited until a port below her sternum popped open. "Reach in and take it out. And be careful, it's pretty fragile."

"O-okay." SASS gingerly placed her hand inside the compartment, feeling the cube that was NTW's soul and mind. It was warm, very warm, and she had to take a deep breath before taking a grip on it and starting to pull. The core slid out surprisingly easy, and SASS held the fist-sized cube up to inspect. It was glass and metal with a mess of complex parts on the inside, impossible for her to understand. She carefully cupped it to her stomach. "What next?"

NTW's body had gone limp.

Tiss was still on top of Gestalt when SASS returned. The doll had torn up more of Gestalt's armor and was rooting through the wiring. Her eyes turned to SASS as she approached, flicking down to the core in an questioning expression.

"It's NTW-20," she said, hardly controlling her voice from breaking. The core was held in both hands as one might hold a baby animal. Tiss nodded wordlessly. It occurred to SASS that she still had no idea why the doll didn't speak. More wires were tossed aside or pulled up like weeds, until Tiss's face was overcome with an expression of jubilation. SASS watched, completely absorbed, as Tiss shoved her arm in elbow deep. _Hazard… don't touch Sangvis…_ of course, OTs-12 had not received the same warning that Griffin had. The silver haired doll yanked on something inside the Ringleader, and when she pulled her hand out, a small, grey box was held in her hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then stood, approaching the other doll. The box, held up for SASS to inspect, was not familiar to her, though the IOP logo on it was. Tiss noticed her expression of confusion and made a gesture, from the box to the core. _But that's not a core_, SASS thought. Tiss frowned, but gestured a few more times. For the first time, SASS noticed the scars on her face, how broken her lips were. _Perhaps she means the items are comparable… in importance_. "I see," she said.

Tiss nodded, looking satisfied. Then she looked down at the box, running a finger over it, and SASS saw her nod once again, and a happy smile crossed her dirtied face.


End file.
